The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
by WhiteZephyr
Summary: Taryn Greystone, a young Imperial, suddenly finds herself in Skyrim, where Dragons run rampant and a civil war rages. With the help of old friends and new allies, can she bring peace to Skyrim, defeat Alduin the World Eater, and embrace her destiny as the last of the Dragonborn...? Based on Bethesda's Elder Scrolls series. ON HIATUS FOR NEW ASSASSIN'S CREED FAN-FIC!
1. Prologue

The Elder Scrolls V:

Skyrim

Prologue

Paarthurnax closed his eyes as the winds atop the Throat of the World died down. He enjoyed the moments of silence from them. It allowed him time to think, time to meditate, on words long forgotten. Perhaps he would come across some words he had not taught the Greybeards. It was unlikely, but Paarthurnax tried nonetheless.

A few minutes of resounding silence passed, the only sound of Paarthurnax's deep breaths were audible. And then another sound cut through the night. A child, crying. Paarthurnax ignored it for a moment, thinking that it was possibly a child from Ivarstead, and the echoes of its cries were being brought up to him. But as he focused more, he realized that this was not the case.

The old Dragon opened his eyes and carefully followed the sound. It was hard for a Dragon to move around unnoticed, but Paarthurnax did it well enough. After a while of searching, he found the corpse of an Imperial woman, frozen on the Pilgrim's Path. A small bundle was a few metres away from her, and this was the source of the crying.

Paarthurnax stooped and lifted the baby with one of his wings. The crying stopped as he examined the child. And then it started to laugh. Paarthurnax was confused, not knowing if the child was laughing at him, but he decided that the baby liked him when it reached for his nose and patted it affectionately. Paarthurnax smiled and turned to the Imperial woman's corpse. He contemplated on burning it and allowing her to properly move on, but he decided that the Greybeards could handle her. As for the child… They would ensure that it was properly cared for as well.

He returned to the Throat of the World and roared his Thu'um. The Greybeards would hear him, and they would be the only ones to. In a few moments, the Greybeards arrived. Arngeir approached the old Dragon.

"Yes?" he asked wearily. "Why have you summoned us, Paarthurnax?"

Paarthurnax unfolded his wing and let the baby gently fall into the Greybeard's hands. "I found this child on the Pilgrim's Path. It was lying by a dead Imperial woman. If you would, I'd like it if you'd give the woman a proper burial and take care of this child."

Arngeir examined the baby. "Paarthurnax, why?"

The old Dragon looked at the baby again, who smiled up at him and gurgled affectionately. The truth was… he was simply reminded.

"Entertain an old Dragon, would you?" he replied. "Please, see to it. I have to meditate on the words."

The Greybeards bowed and left the Throat of the World to return to High Hrothgar. Wearily, Paarthurnax curled up beside the word wall and fell asleep, dreaming of a past long forgotten by the mortals of the Nirn. One that was sure to return in the near future.


	2. The Prisoner

Chapter One:

The Prisoner

_**Twenty Years Later…**_

__"You have _got_ to be kidding me…"

I ran faster, my legs already burning worse than Kvatch a few hundred years ago. I had to get away, or I'd be dead for sure. Behind me, Thalmor charged, their blades raised and their arrows nocked into their bows. Their armour was shinier than I remembered, which probably meant that they were reinforcements. That also meant that they weren't as tired as I was.

I started my climb, ignoring the road. From rock to rock, I leapt, sometimes sliding because of the cold and cutting my hands or my legs. The Jerall Mountains were just as merciless as an Imperial prison would be.

"Stop! Murderer!" one of the Thalmor ordered as loudly as he could.

I looked back and stuck my tongue out at him childishly. "I'm not a murderer, you idiot! Maybe if you guys didn't go after Imperials all the time, you'd see that!"

I continued to climb, the Thalmor speeding up behind me. They wouldn't have permission to cross the border, so if I could just get into Skyrim...

I made it to the top of one of the mountains, completely out of breath, my body begging for rest. A part of me just wanted to lie down in the snow and let the Thalmor catch me, but I knew I'd never see sunlight again if they did.

I cursed my luck, and the person I'd thought was my friend. _If only I hadn't trusted him, I wouldn't be here... _I cursed again, but started forward, slogging through the snow with difficulty, the wind threatening to carry me off the mountain, and the snow painfully stinging my face with tiny icicles.

"She's here!" a Thalmor yelled.

They caught up! I doubled my efforts, rubbing my hands furiously on my arms. I was so close to the border, I could practically _feel_ the invisible line dividing Cyrodiil from Skyrim.

"Stop there, criminal!"

I continued forward. "Kiss my frozen ass!"

I looked back as I reached the edge of the mountain. A Thalmor had grabbed a rock from where he believed the border to be and lobbed it at me with all his might. Too frozen to move any further, it hit me in the face, over my left eye. I stumbled to the side and threw my arms out to stop myself from falling, but there wasn't anything for me to grab. I fell from the mountain. Unable to scream, I reached out and tried to grab the nearest jutting rock, which only cut my hands further, but I managed to slow myself down enough so that, when I hit the rocky mountain, I was comically bouncing down.

I didn't know exactly when I'd blacked out, but when I came to, I was lying down in a wagon as it bounced along.

_Aw, hell... Did the Thalmor catch me?_ I groaned as I felt the binds on my wrists. _Well, so much for my brilliant plan to flee to Skyrim—._

"Hey, are you awake?" The voice was that of an Argonian, and it was incredibly familiar to me. I really hoped it was who I thought it was.

I moved my head until I saw him. Dark green skin, red face paint, and it looked like he'd gotten a few scars on the left side of his face; it was my best friend, Hides-His-Heart. Well, his nickname was Milos. I hoped that he still went by it.

"Milos?" I asked.

"I figured it was you," Milos said with a smile, showing off his lizard fangs. "You always know how to make me laugh."

"Make you laugh...?" I repeated.

"Well, you were bouncing down the Jerall Mountains. For a minute, the Stormcloaks and the Imperials stopped fighting just to laugh at your unconscious body."

I rubbed my head and found dried blood around my eye. _Right. The rock. I made it into Skyrim, so why...?_

"Milos, what's going on?"

His yellow eyes darkened. "They think that you and I are with the Stormcloaks. They captured me near Riften, and then they got you at the Pale Pass."

I lifted my head off of Milos' and sat up as straight as my aching muscles would allow. A blonde Nord sitting across from me, with a goatee and dirt plastered all over his face, examined me expertly with his eyes. He was wearing a blue uniform over his chainmail that I'd never seen before, but in the other wagons, there were more people in his same uniform.

"Hey, you!" the blonde man said when my gaze had drifted from him. "Finally awake? You were trying to cross the border, right? Walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us! And that thief over there!"

I looked to the other people in our wagon. Sitting beside the blonde man was a dark-haired Nord, his eyes darting around from one wagon to the next. Seated beside Milos was another Nord in fine garments, his mouth bound as well as his hands.

"Damn you Stormcloaks!" the thief spat. "Skyrim was fine until you came along! Empire was nice and lazy. If they hadn't been looking for you, I'd have stolen that horse and been halfway to Hammerfell!" The thief looked at me, his eyes finally focusing. "You there! You and me; we shouldn't be here! It's these Stormcloaks the Empire wants!"

The blonde Nord sighed. "We're all brothers and sisters in binds now, _thief_."

The Imperial soldier driving the wagon groaned. "Shut-up back there!"

The dark-haired Nord snorted distastefully, and then looked at the other blonde Nord sitting across from him. "What's wrong with _him_, huh?"

"Watch your tongue!" the other Nord snapped. "You're speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King!"

The dark-haired Nord's eyes widened. "Ulfric? The Jarl of Windhelm? You're the leader of the rebellion! If they've captured you..." The dark-haired Nord tensed and started to shake slightly. "Oh Gods! Where are they taking us?"

The blonde Nord hung his head. "I don't know where we're going, but Sovngarde awaits."

"No, this can't be happening! This isn't happening!"

"Hey, what village are you from, horse-thief?"

"Why do you care?" the dark-haired Nord grumbled as he fidgeted.

"A Nord's last thoughts should be of home."

I hung my head. So, they were going to execute Ulfric and his Stormcloaks. That meant that Milos and I would be following them. Milos nudged me gently with his shoulder, so I did my best to smile for him.

"Rorikstead," the thief finally said. "I'm... I'm from Rorikstead."

"General Tullius, sir!" an Imperial soldier called from atop the gates of the village we were being led to. "The headsman is waiting!"

"Good!" an Imperial man called back. "Let's get this over with." General Tullius was riding at the head of the caravan, wearing golden armour similar to the kind that the rest of his soldiers were wearing. He looked old, but he also looked like he'd stick a blade in your eye if you crossed him.

"Shor, Mara, Dibella, Kynareth, Akatosh...!" The thief put his bound hands against his forehead. "Divines, please help me!"

We passed the gates into the village. While our wagons went one way, General Tullius veered off the path to chat with a waiting Thalmor, who sat tall on his steed. I unconsciously bowed my head to avoid his attention, much like I had whenever I encountered a Thalmor back in Cyrodiil.

"Look at him!" the blonde Nord spat. "General Tullius, the military governor! And it looks like the Thalmor are with him! Damn elves... I bet they had something to do with this!" The Nord's voice grew soft all of a sudden. "This is Helgen. I used to be sweet on a girl from here. I wonder if Vilod is still making that mead with juniper berries mixed in...?" The Nord snorted. "Funny. When I was a boy, Imperial walls and towers used to make me feel so safe..."

I looked up at one of the towers we were circling. It had definitely seen better days. _What am I doing? I'm distracting myself too much. It's just death. No biggy._ I gulped anyways. I wasn't very good at reassuring myself.

"Who are they, daddy?" a little boy asked as he sat cross-legged on his porch. "Where are they going?"

"You need to go inside, Haming," the boy's father said.

"Why? I wanna watch the soldiers!" the boy, Haming, argued.

"Inside the house!" his father ordered. "Now!"

The boy hesitated, and then stood up. "Yes, papa..."

"Get those prisoners out of the carts!" an Imperial woman in armour yelled. "Move it!"

"Why're we stopping?" the horse-thief exclaimed.

"Why do you think?" the blonde Nord replied, shaking his head. "End of the line."

The wagon stopped by a wall near the tower I'd examined before. Milos growled beside me, but it was low enough to just rumble in his throat. I knew him long enough to know that he was annoyed about something.

"Let's go," the blonde Nord said. "Shouldn't keep the Gods waiting for us."

"No, wait!" the horse-thief exclaimed, shaking his head furiously from side-to-side. "We're not rebels!"

The soldiers ignored him. When we jumped off the back of the wagon, the blonde Nord nudged him. "Face your death with some courage, thief!"

"You've got to tell them!" He grabbed one of the blonde Nord's arms. "We weren't with you! This is a mistake!"

The blonde Nord, butted his head against the dark-haired Nord's. The horse-thief released him and stepped back, rubbing his head.

"Step towards the block when we call your name!" the armoured Imperial woman instructed. "One at a time!"

The blonde Nord sighed. "Empire loves their damned lists..."

Milos snorted at that. I remembered when we were young, Milos was one of the few slaves taken in to the orphanage in Anvil. I could probably guess where he wanted the Empire to shove those lists.

"Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm," read a Nord man in an Imperial uniform.

Ulfric stepped towards the block, glaring at the Imperial woman and the Nord beside her.

"It has been an honor, Jarl Ulfric," the blonde Nord said as Ulfric passed by us.

"Ralof of Riverwood," the Nord man continued.

Wordlessly, the blonde Nord, Ralof, walked towards the block. The Nord man and Ralof locked gazes for a moment, but then he went back to his list. I wondered briefly if they knew each other.

"Lokir of Rorikstead."

"No!" the horse-thief, Lokir, exclaimed. "I'm not a rebel! You can't do this!"

Lokir started running the way we'd come. "Halt!" the Imperial woman yelled.

"You're not gonna kill me!" Lokir called back, almost gleefully.

"Archers!" The Imperial woman pointed to Lokir and dropped her hand. Some soldiers loosed arrows on Lokir, and he was hit once in the ankle, and twice in the back. He was dead when he hit the ground. "Anyone else feel like running?" the Imperial asked darkly.

The Nord man looked down at his list and then back up at Milos and I. "Wait..." he muttered, and then raised his voice. "You there! Step forward." Milos and I looked at each other, shrugged, and approached the man together. "Who... are you?"

"Hides-His-Heart of Helstrom," Milos announced, holding his head up proudly and boring his eyes into the young Nord.

I followed Milos' example. "Taryn Greystone of Anvil."

The Nord frowned and looked to the Imperial woman. "Captain, what should we do? They're not on the list."

The woman took one look at us and sneered. "Forget the list," she said. "They go to the block."

"By your orders, Captain." The Nord man placed his quill in his book's spine and closed it. "I'm sorry," he said to us. "We'll make sure your remains are returned to Black Marsh and Cyrodiil."

_Yeah, well, the Thalmor will probably try to arrest my remains... _

The Nord motioned to his Captain with his head. "Follow the Captain, prisoners."

The Captain walked towards the block, so we followed, playfully elbowing each other along the way. Anything to get us smiling when we died. We stood just to the right and a bit behind Ulfric Stormcloak, who was preoccupied with General Tullius.

"Ulfric Stormcloak... Some here in Helgen call you a hero, but a hero doesn't use a power like the voice to murder his King and usurp his throne." Ulfric's eyes narrowed and he grunted something, but it was illegible because of the cloth tied around his mouth. "You started this war! Plunged Skyrim into chaos! And now the Empire is going to put you down, and restore the peace!"

A sound cut through the mountains surrounding Helgen. Low and menacing, I found it shook me to my very bones. Everyone else seemed rather unaffected by it though.

"What was that?" an Imperial soldier asked.

General Tullius waved it off. "It's nothing. Carry on."

"Yes, General Tullius!" the Imperial Captain said, saluting. She turned to a priest standing near the headsman. "Give them their last rites."

The priest held her hands out. "As we commend your souls to Aetherius, blessings of the Eight Divines upon you_—_!"

"Oh, for the love of Talos!" one of the Stormcloaks groaned as he stepped up to the block. "Just shut-up, and let's get this over with!"

The Imperial Captain glared at him. "As you wish."

"C'mon!" he goaded. "I haven't got all morning!"

The Imperial pushed him forward so he was on his knees, then put her foot in-between his shoulder blades and pushed his neck onto the block.

"My ancestors are smiling at me, Imperials!" the Nord continued. "Can you say the same?"

The headsman raised the axe above his head, and slammed it down, right onto the Nord's neck. Blood spurted from the stump on his body as his head lolled into the box at the block's base. The Imperial Captain kicked his body to the side, making a sound of distaste on the way.

"You Imperial bastards!" a Nord woman in Stormcloak regalia shouted.

"Justice!" a man yelled in answer.

"Death to the Stormcloaks!" a woman added.

Ralof smiled. "As fearless in death as he was in life."

"Next, the Imperial!" the Captain called.

I smiled at Milos one last time as I approached the block, but shivered when I heard the roar in the distance again. Goosebumps spread quickly across my arms to prove that I didn't imagine my shiver.

"There it is again..." the Imperial with the list murmured. "Did you hear that?"

"I said, 'Next prisoner'!" the Captain said.

The man cleared his throat. "To the block prisoner. Nice and easy."

I continued forward and faced the block. Like with the man before me, the Captain forced me onto my knees and put her foot on my back. I faced the headsman, not wishing to look into the box that the Stormcloak's head was in, because I was sure that its dead eyes would be staring at me.

The headsman brought up his axe just as another roar sounded. I saw a black shape move across the sky, and my eyes widened.

"What in Oblivion is that?" General Tullius exclaimed.

"Sentries! What do you see?" the Captain called.

As the headsman's axe was above his head, the monster landed on top of the tower and shook the ground. Black scales, darker than the night; eyes redder than blood; it was a Dragon.

"Dragon!" the female Stormcloak yelled.

The Dragon opened its mouth and seemed to shout something at us, and the next thing I knew, fire was falling from the skies. It shouted at us again, this time tossing me away from the block and into Milos. He caught me, but fell on his backside as he did so.

"C'mon!" Ralof yelled at us. "The Gods won't give us another chance!"

We followed him into a tower opposite the one that the Dragon was perched on. Slamming the door behind us, Milos and I looked at each other in disbelief. _A Dragon. A real Dragon!_

Ulfric and Ralof exchanged a few words before Ralof beckoned Milos and I up the steps of the tower. We followed and saw another Stormcloak, and as we approached, the Dragon broke through the wall of the tower. It stuck its massive head inside and breathed fire at the Stormcloak. The smell of burning flesh filled our nostrils and his screams made me cover my ears. The Dragon removed its head from the tower and took flight again, burning the houses and anything else it wished.

"Jump!" Ralof instructed.

I looked through the hole in the wall and saw a burning house beneath us. "You're not serious_—_?"

"_Jump_!" Ralof repeated, this time at a yell.

I took a running leap, my arms and legs flailing in the air to keep me on track, and rolled as soon as I hit the floor of the house. The force of my landing broke the wooden beams, and I landed on my back on the first floor. I groaned, but wasted no time in getting up. Milos leaped after me, landing close to the place I'd fallen, but he didn't fall himself. He jumped down gently and joined me.

Milos and I ran out of the burning house and stopped when we saw the Nord who'd held the list.

"Haming!" the Nord soldier yelled. "Get over here!"

The boy ran over to the Nord just as the Dragon landed where the boy had been. The Dragon breathed fire at them, but the Nord and the boy got away in time and took shelter behind a house, where a Nord man was.

"Still alive prisoner?" the Nord man said. "Keep close if you want to stay that way!" He looked to the other Nord man. "Gunnar, take care of the boy! I need to find General Tullius and join the defense."

"Gods guide you, Hadvar!" Gunnar said, nodding to him.

Milos and I followed Hadvar behind a burning house close to a wall. I looked up and saw the Dragon circling above us. I shivered again, despite the intense heat.

"Stay close to the wall!" Hadvar ordered.

We hugged the wall just as the Dragon landed above us. A claw on its wing was close enough to me that, if I had stuck my head out, the claw wound certainly cut my face. The Dragon roared, spewing fire from its maw, and then took off again.

"Quickly! Follow me!" Hadvar yelled.

I followed him closely as we ran up some steps and into another burning house. The Dragon flew above us, its eyes glinting at the chaos.

"Kel drey ni viik!" the Dragon thundered above us. _**"The Elder Scroll did not defeat me!"**_

__I gasped and took a step back. Milos ran into me head-on and swore. "Taryn! Hurry! Keep running!"

"Did you hear that?" I exclaimed. "It spoke!"

"What're you talking about?" The house exploded. Milos pushed me towards where Hadvar was. "Run!"

I listened and ran after Hadvar, my heart thundering in my chest. _The Dragon spoke! I heard it!_

We passed General Tullius, who immediately ordered Hadvar to get out of Helgen. Hadvar didn't like the order, I could tell, but followed it nonetheless. We ran past another gate and to a keep, where Ralof crossed in front of us.

"Ralof!" Hadvar yelled. "You damn traitor! Out of my way!"

"We're escaping, Hadvar!" Ralof retorted. "You're not stopping us this time!"

"Fine. I hope the Dragon takes you _all_ to Sovngarde!"

Ralof ran past us and to one of the doors. Hadvar went to another door. Milos and I only had to glance at each other before we knew who we were following. Hadvar opened the door for us and then closed it as soon as we were inside. We took a moment to ourselves, despite the sound of battle outside, and just took a breather.

"Looks like we're the only ones who made it," Hadvar gasped as he leaned against the door. "Was that really a Dragon? The bringers of the End Times?" Hadvar stepped forward. "We should keep moving. Come here; let me see if I can get those bindings off."

Milos' bindings were cut first, followed by mine. I rubbed my wrists and flexed my fingers gratefully.

"There you go. Take a look around; there should be plenty of gear to choose from. I'm going to see if I can find something for these burns."

I saw Milos immediately set to work to finding some gear, and I took that chance to lie down on one of the beds. _By the Nine..._ I thought wearily. _What's happening?_


	3. Into the Keep

Chapter Two:

Into the Keep

Milos called me and then tossed a sword at me as I was groggily getting up. After nearly decapitating myself (who needs a headsman to do it?) and shooting Milos a glare that would've made his ancestors proud, I grabbed some Imperial gear and examined it.

"Oh thank the Nine!" I exclaimed. "It's a woman's size!" I turned on Milos and Hadvar. "Turn around! I don't want you two to see me while I'm changing!"

"There's a Dragon outside, and you're worried about us seeing your naked body?" Hadvar asked in disbelief as he crossed his arms across his chest.

"Yeah, I know; priorities. Just. Turn. Around."

Hadvar and Milos looked at each other and then faced the wall. I changed as quickly as I could into the light Imperial gear. I shoved the Imperial helmet on my head and then grabbed the iron sword from the bed I was resting in.

"Okay," I said. "Let's go."

Hadvar used a pull chain and we silently crept through a hallway. Hadvar stopped us as we reached another gate.

"Hear that?" he whispered. "Stormcloaks. Maybe we can reason with them."

I nodded in agreement as Hadvar opened the gate with another pull chain. I was about to sheathe my weapon as we walked through when the Stormcloaks grabbed theirs. Both Stormcloaks had iron battleaxes, and they knew how to use them.

"For Ulfric and the Stormcloaks!" the woman yelled.

I parried her blow, not wanting direct contact with my sword (or my body, for that matter) in case my sword would break from the pressure behind it. I still didn't know how reliable a weapon it was.

Luckily, the battleaxes made them both slow. I kicked my leg out and hit the female Stormcloak in the knee she cried out in pain and tried to grab me with one of her hands, but I'd already jumped back. Milos came up behind her and stabbed her through the back, showering my face with her blood.

I ignored it and moved to help Hadvar. He was grappling with the Stormcloak, weapons long forgotten. I followed Milos' example and went up behind the Stormcloak, running my blade across his throat.

The Stormcloak died instantly. Hadvar stooped to recover his sword from the ground.

"What happened to you?" Hadvar asked.

I ripped off a piece of the blue fabric of one of the dead Stormcloaks and wiped my face. "Milos decided that I needed a shower."

"You shouldn't wipe it off; you look better with it on," Milos said with a toothy grin.

I frowned at him and then tossed the bloodied fabric to the side. "Okay. Ready."

"Let me see if I can get that door open," Hadvar said as he sheathed his sword.

Milos hefted one of the battleaxes up and weighed it in his hands. Seemingly satisfied, he sheathed his sword to his side and gripped the battleaxe.

"I wish it were an actual blade instead," Milos grumbled when he caught me looking. "Much faster."

"I would've thought you to be the sneaky type, Argonian." Hadvar opened the gate and walked through. "We'd best hurry; that Dragon won't wait for us while we sit around enjoying each other's good company."

We followed him through the door and down some steps until we reached a hallway. Suddenly, the keep shook and Milos grabbed the collar of my armour.

"Look out!" Hadvar cried.

Milos yanked me backwards just as some of the roof came down, effectively cutting off our path, but it hadn't totally covered-up a door.

"Damn, that Dragon doesn't give up easy," Hadvar muttered.

"We can go through here," I said, pointing to the door.

Milos put a clawed finger to his lips (or what lips he had) and pressed his ear against the door.

"Two men," he told us. "Sounds like they're trying to get to some potions."

"Can you tell if they're Stormcloaks?" I asked.

Milos held up a finger to silence me. "... They're Stormcloaks."

"Then we've got the element of surprise." I crouched low and silently opened the door as Milos moved away. I crept quietly behind one of the Stormcloaks, covered his mouth and slit his throat. He went down with a gurgle that wasn't unheard by his comrade.

Milos was there instantly, and slammed his battleaxe into the Stormcloak's chest. He breathed his last as Milos tried to pry it out of him.

"Damn. Argonian's got an arm," Hadvar muttered.

Milos eventually gave in, but seemed happy that the Stormcloak I'd killed had an iron greatsword.

"Happy now?" I asked him.

"Much happier," he replied, "but I could do without the Dragon."

"See if you can find some potions," Hadvar ordered. "They may come in handy."

I went to where one of the Stormcloaks had stood near some barrels and searched them. I chuckled as I fished out a few health potions, which were always in fancy red bottles.

"He was trying to open the wrong barrel," I told Milos with a smile.

Hadvar put two bags beside us. They weren't exactly small, but they weren't very large either.

"We can put what supplies we find inside these bags. It'll save us some hands from carrying, and we could use our weapons more effectively," Hadvar explained.

I carefully placed the few potions I'd found inside of one of the bags and slung it over my shoulder. Milos found a few golden Septims after some vigorous searching and pocketed them. It was a good idea; we'd need them when we got out... or _if_ we got out. I also grabbed some arrows that one of the Stormcloaks had on him, hoping to find a bow later on.

We exited the storeroom to the hallway, where our path was now blocked from behind rather than in front of us. The hallway twisted and turned and took us lower underground, but I didn't mind. At least the Dragon wouldn't be able to fit through.

We made it to a torturing chamber, where the torturer and his assistant were being attacked by a single Stormcloak.

"A torture room," Hadvar breathed. "Gods, I wish we didn't need these."

We ran in to take the Stormcloak by surprise. She saw us coming and immediately knew that, even if she defeated the burly torturer's assistant, she didn't have the energy to get past us. In a desperate attempt, she swung her iron sword around quickly to keep us at bay, but she backed herself into a pillar. I called for some magicka in my left hand and cast fire at her. She held up her shield, but it soon erupted into flames and burnt her arm. Hadvar moved in for the kill and stabbed her through the chest.

While Hadvar was speaking to the torturer, I found a few lockpicks in a bag and started to pick the lock on the centre torture cage. A dead mage lay inside, surrounded by a few potions that he'd probably intended to use on himself. After picking up the golden Septims lying around, I grabbed the potions and did the enviable task of undressing the dead Breton. At least he'd had the decency to wear undergarments.

The Novice hood and robe I'd taken off of him would be a nice change from the Imperial armour I was wearing, but I didn't feel like taking my time to change again. The torturer's assistant decided to tag along with us, and we were all too happy for his help.

We left the torture chamber, passing several other cells that had been carved into the stone, and entered a large chamber with a stream passing through the middle and two bridges. A female Stormcloak spotted us almost instantly and drew her weapon.

"For Ulfric and the Stormcloaks!" she shouted, alerting her comrades of our presence.

I drew my longsword and ducked underneath her iron greatsword, and slid my blade across her stomach. I got past her and ran for the next Stormcloak while Milos dealt with the first. Using the fire in my palm, I saw oil and ignited it. The Stormcloak who was unfortunate enough not to have noticed it screamed and beat at the flames, but it was no use; he was a dead man walking.

Before he dropped the longbow in his hands, I wrenched it from his grasp, grabbed one of the iron arrows at his back and fired as quickly as I could, hitting another Stormcloak with a bow in the shoulder. He staggered into the wall but fired his own arrow at me. I ducked instinctively and nocked another arrow, this time taking a breath before I let it fly. This one hit home, right through his throat. I looted the rest of the arrows from the Stormcloak who I'd taken the longbow from and looked around. Milos had decapitated the first Stormcloak, and there'd been another on the ground by the stream that Hadvar and the torturer's assistant had dispatched.

"I'd better stay back and help with the old man," the torturer's assistant said, almost wearily. "You go on ahead."

Hadvar didn't argue and moved onward. I kept my new bow out and tested the string. After tightening it quickly, it seemed well enough. At least I wouldn't miss at a crucial time. I looted the Stormcloak I'd hit in the throat with an arrow, hoping that both of the arrows I'd wasted on him were still in good condition. One was, but the other was bent and broken. I slipped the arrows into my new quiver and followed Hadvar and Milos further.

Milos stopped by a lever to a drawbridge and pushed it. It was stuck fast, so he went around to the other side and pulled it. I pushed it while he was doing so to help. After a lot of creaking from the bridge, the lever finally gave way and I fell onto Milos. He groaned as I did.

"Sorry," I said, and then offered my hand to help him up.

Milos took it and grunted as he got to his feet. "I think I may have hurt my tail a bit..."

I chuckled. Of all the things Milos always obsessed about, it was the horns on his head, and his tail.

We walked over the bridge, Hadvar first, me second, and Milos third. A great shaking once again came over the keep, and the bridge collapsed as Hadvar and I made it to the other side. Terrified for Milos, I ran to the ruin of the drawbridge and looked down. Milos was dusting himself off, a frown apparent on his reptilian face.

"I'm okay," he said. "I'll just go down this tunnel and see if I can't meet up with you."

I nodded and rejoined Hadvar, who had a curious smile on his face.

I glanced at him and then nocked an arrow into my bow. "What?"

"You and the Argonian are getting along well," Hadvar said, his smile not leaving. "Know each other well?"

"Milos and I... Well, we were in Cyrodiil at the same time. We became friends, and then he had to leave for Black Marsh. I was actually surprised to see him today, but then the Dragon swooped in and I had a different lizard to be surprised about."

"I'll second that." Hadvar unsheathed his sword and glanced down a tunnel. "This way is blocked," he said. "We'll go down this way instead; with the lamp."

I searched the skeleton lying near the lamp and pocketed some more gold. As we were about to proceed on, I heard splashing coming from behind us. I pulled the arrow in my bow back and whirled around, taking aim at whoever or whatever was behind us.

Milos raised his hands. "It's me, Taryn," he said, and then held up a coin purse. "Look what I found. Now we have a place to put all this gold we're finding."

I grinned and relaxed. "Any more and we're going to be rich, Milos."

We took some time to dump the coins we'd found into the purse and then Milos tied it to his belt. We proceeded onward, taking only one turn before we descended ever further under the ground (or, at least, I thought we were under the ground. The next chamber we saw had light streaming through a hole on the roof), to a chamber where webs covered the floor and ceiling.

I loosed an arrow on something I saw moving. It squealed in agony and then died, but not before I saw what it was.

"A giant spider..." I muttered.

"Frostbite spiders," Milos corrected me. "And it looks like it's got friends."

Two more spiders shifted out of the darkness and examined the new body. Milos and Hadvar charged forward and stabbed the spiders through their heads, avoiding their poison. Seeing movement on the ceiling, I loosed an arrow. A screech resounded throughout the chamber, much louder than the three Frostbite spiders before it, and it crumbled onto the ground. The spider was easily the size of all three smaller Frostbite spiders put together, and then some.

"Another one!" Hadvar shouted.

I let another arrow fly, but I missed. The giant Frostbite spider touched the ground and scurried over to Milos and Hadvar, who were avoiding its deadly poison-coated incisors. I ran forward, slinging the boy over my shoulder, and drew my blade, running it along the left side of the spider's legs. It screeched and turned towards me, but stopped as soon as it had started. Hadvar yanked his iron longsword from the giant Frostbite spider's head and looked at the blade with disgust.

"Let's not do that again," he said, wiping the blade on his armour.

Milos and I agreed. We proceeded onward, stopping for a short rest beside the stream and taking a drink. Milos sifted through his pack and pulled out some bread.

"Where'd you get that?" I asked.

"I found it lying around_—_."

"I don't want any."

Milos grinned. "Do you even know when we're going to eat again?"

"As soon as we get out of this cave, I'm killing the first deer I see."

Hadvar was laughing at us. "Well, you two _do_ seem familiar. Were you _more_ than friends at any time...?"

Milos and I looked at each other, and then burst out in laughter. "No way!" Milos cried, holding his chest in an effort to stop himself from laughing. "There's no way I'd be courting Taryn! She'd kill me if I tried!"

"That, and I made it incredibly clear back in Cyrodiil that, if he mentioned it, I'd saw off his horns." I grinned. "Milos and I are just friends. We'll stay that way."

Hadvar smiled and rubbed the stubble on his face. "Well, we'd best keep moving."

Shouldering our packs, we continued into the cavern that the keep had become, with occasional munching noises coming from Milos. He was eating the bread he'd found. I suppressed a gag and tried to block out his eating sounds.

Hadvar crouched and held out his arm. "Hold up! There's a bear up ahead. Can you see her?"

Milos and I crouched like Hadvar and looked ahead. Sleeping, a gigantic, russet-brown bear was lying in the light that the holes in the ceiling provided.

"I'd rather not tangle with her right now," Hadvar continued. "We might be able to sneak by. Just watch your step, and take it nice and slow."

We stayed far from the bear. I debated attacking it so we wouldn't have to sneak around, but taking the sleeping animal by surprise didn't sit well with me. People who were awake and didn't know I was there, I could handle. Especially in this kind of a desperate situation.

After successfully getting past the bear, we stood up and began to jog. We traveled further down until we saw a light at the end of a tunnel.

"This must be the way out!" Hadvar exclaimed. "I was starting to wonder if we'd ever make it."

We ran for it, the scent of freedom filling our nostrils, despite the stitches in our sides. We burst out into the open mountain air and came to a stop, looking over the valley with grateful looks on our faces.

"Wait!" Hadvar crouched behind a rock, and we quickly followed him. Above us, the Dragon roared, the black mass soaring through the skies as Skyrim's oldest and deadliest predator. Hadvar sighed. "Looks like he's gone for good this time. But I don't think we should stick around to see if he comes back."

I released the breath that I realized I'd been holding in. Something about that Dragon, made me shiver, not from cold or fear, but another feeling. I didn't know what to make of it. Milos glanced at me suspiciously, but didn't bring it up. I had a feeling he would later, though.

"Closest town from here is Riverwood," Hadvar explained as he led us down the rocky path. "My uncle's the blacksmith there. I'm sure he'd help you two out. It's probably best if we'd split up. Good luck; I wouldn't have made it without your help today."

Hadvar stopped for a rest and watched us go. We followed the twisting path until we were only a few yards from the river, and then we found a few strange stones.

"Ah," Milos breathed. "Guardian Stones. The Thief, the Mage, and the Warrior. They're the basic Guardian Stones, though I'm sure there's more around." Milos walked up to the Warrior. "I'll take this one."

I stepped up to the Thief almost immediately and put my hand on it. Immediately, a magical beam of light shot up to the heavens above.

I heard Milos chuckle. "Old habits die hard, huh?"

"Says the Argonian who's carrying a sword larger than an Orc child," I retorted. "We should wait here for Hadvar. I think he'd like the company, and then it won't be so awkward to explain to his uncle the situation we're in."


	4. Riverwood and the Barrow

Chapter Three:

Riverwood and the Barrow

Hadvar met us on the road and we continued on to Riverwood, only meeting two wolves and a bandit. After the Dragon, I didn't really mind the gnashing jaws of wolves as I killed them with my bow and arrows. And the bandit was a vacation.

When we passed the gate into Riverwood, Hadvar slowed to a walk and seemed to be taking-in the small village. At the second house I saw, a man with long brown hair and a beard was working the forge tirelessly.

"A Dragon!" a woman cried suddenly, sending me immediately on edge. "I saw a Dragon!"

A man beside her sighed. "What is it now, mother? Another of your wild tales?"

"Not wild! I saw a Dragon flying in the sky earlier this morning."

The man shook his head. "Not now, mother. Just go back to your chair."

The mother glared at her son. "You'll see! It was a Dragon! It'll kill us all and then you'll believe me!"

He shook his head and moved on. Milos shook me by my shoulder gently to get me following Hadvar again, who was already speaking to his uncle. The blacksmith saw us and seemed to be sizing us up.

"Come in," he said finally. "I'll get Sigrid to fix you something to eat."

The inside of Hadvar's uncle's house was small, but quaint. There wasn't enough room for everyone to sit at the table, so Milos, Hadvar and I sat at the table while Hadvar's uncle and aunt, Sigrid, stood up. Their daughter hopped onto a bed and sat, staring at us, but mostly Milos. I didn't blame her.

"Hadvar!" Sigrid exclaimed, putting a hand on her nephew. "We've been so worried about you! Come, you three must be hungry. Sit down and I'll get you something to eat."

"Thank-you, aunt Sigrid, uncle Alvor." Hadvar bowed his head. "Thank-you for taking us in."

Alvor's lips pursed. "Now then, boy, what's the big mystery? What are you doing here, looking like you lost an argument with a cave bear?"

"I-I don't know where to start," Hadvar admitted honestly. "You know I was assigned to General Tullius's guard. We were stopping in Helgen when we were attacked... by a Dragon."

Alvor's eyes widened. "A Dragon?" he repeated in disbelief. "That's... ridiculous! You aren't drunk, are you boy?"

Sigrid, who, at the mention of Dragons, nearly let go of the pot she was carrying, composed herself. "Husband! Let him tell his story."

"Not much more to tell," Hadvar said. "This Dragon flew over and just wrecked the whole place. Mass confusion. I don't know if anyone else got out alive. I doubt I'd have made it out myself if not for my friends here." Hadvar paused a moment, and then seemed to come to a decision. "I need to get back to Solitude and let them know what's happened. I thought you could help us out. Food, supplies, a place to stay."

"Of course!" Alvor looked at Milos and I sincerely. "Any friends of Hadvar's are friends of mine. I'm glad to help however I can. But... I need your help. _We_ need your help. The Jarl needs to know if there's a Dragon on the loose. Riverwood is defenseless... We need to get word to Jarl Balgruuf in Whiterun to send whatever soldiers he can. If you'll do that for me, I'll be in your debt."

Milos nodded. "Of course. We'll let him know as soon as we can. How do we get to Whiterun from here?"

"Cross the river and then head north," Alvor replied. "You'll see it, just past the falls."

"Thank-you," Milos said. He and I started to get up, but immediately sat back down when Sigrid announced that dinner was ready.

_Ah, Milos hasn't changed,_ I remarked. _It doesn't matter how much he eats; somehow, there's always room for more._ I remembered when Milos was a tiny little Argonian, and how he used to look at people with his huge eyes in order to get food from them. He was cute then, but now he was downright intimidating. He had muscles where I didn't think muscles had even existed.

Sigrid had cooked some venison and rabbit in a stew with carrots, put some bread on the table, and put a bottle of Honningbrew Mead on the table. I knew some people from Bruma who'd come to Anvil who particularly liked the stuff, but I'd never been old enough to try it.

Milos didn't seem familiar with it either and eyed it warily, but his attention was divided between it and his stew. The stew won. I reached for the bottle and examined it. Hadvar and Alvor, in turn, were examining me.

"Never tried it?" Hadvar asked.

I shook my head. "I've never been old enough to."

"How old _are_ you?"

"Twenty."

Hadvar's eyebrows rose, as if he was surprised. I frowned. I look twenty! ... Don't I look twenty?

"And you, Argonian?" Hadvar asked.

Milos frowned. "It's not 'Argonian'. It's Hides-His-Heart, but call me Milos."

"Why Milos?"

He shrugged and jabbed a thumb in my direction. "_She_ gave it to me. Ask _her_."

Hadvar, Alvor and even Milos looked at me expectantly. I sighed and put the bottle down. "I'm not telling."

"And _that's_ what she's told me every time I've ever asked," Milos informed the two Nords.

Hadvar shook his head with a smile. He was close to laughter. "Well, back on topic, how old are you, _Milos_?"

"Three."

In unison, Alvor and Hadvar blinked.

"I was joking," Milos grumbled, and then looked at me. "They know I'm joking, right?"

"Milos is twenty," I said, shaking my head. "We grew up together."

Sigrid smiled. "Where, exactly?"

_What is this, twenty questions? By the Nine..._ "Anvil."

"So, both of you are from Cyrodiil then?" Hadvar inquired. "I thought Milos said he was from Black Marsh when we..." Hadvar cleared his throat, suddenly aware that we were prisoners in his home. _Escaped_ prisoners. "Well, earlier."

"I came from Black Marsh originally," Milos clarified. "I was sold into slavery and brought to Anvil. The slavers realized that I was nothing but trouble and were going to slit my throat when Taryn leapt on one's back and started beating him in the head. Mind you, we were seven at the time. When he finally got her off of him, she thrust some money in his hand and took me away."

"And this idiot thought I'd bought him as my own personal slave," I added.

Milos shrugged. "I thought you came from a rich family. Imagine my surprise when you walked into the orphanage. Plus, I figured out you weren't just a volunteer when the old crone who watched over the kids started to beat you for giving away the money she'd given you for one of her many debts."

"Hey, it was a good investment!"

Hadvar shook his head and stood up. "Well, thank-you, but I must be off. Solitude and General Tullius await."

Alvor, Sigrid and their daughter held Hadvar close before he departed through the door. Their daughter came over to me then and smiled.

"Pleased to meet you," she said, "I'm Dorthe."

"Taryn," I replied. "And yes, Sigrid, thank-you for the meal. We should be off to Whiterun."

"Make sure you stop by the general store, just-in-case you're carrying too much or too little," Alvor said.

I nodded. "We will. Thank-you all."

Milos and I left the home in time to see Hadvar crossing the bridge out of Riverwood. He didn't see us though, so I decided not to wave like an idiot.

"The general store's right across from here," Milos said, crossing the road in broad strides.

I followed after him and entered quietly, but it seemed that we walked right into the middle of a discussion.

"Well, one of us has to do something!" a woman stormed.

"I said no!" a man retorted with equal stubbornness. "No adventures, no theatrics, no thief-chasing!"

"Well what are you going to do then, huh? Let's hear it!"

The man slammed his hand against the a counter he was behind. "We are done talking about this!" The man looked over to us and immediately turned red. Not in an angry way, but he looked sheepish. "Oh, customers! Sorry you had to hear that. I, uh, don't know what you overheard, but the Riverwood Trader is still open. Feel free to shop."

The woman passed in front of us and sat in a chair by the fireplace, glaring daggers at her brother.

"Did something happen?" I asked, leaning against the counter.

He seemed hesitant to talk about it. "Well, yes. We did have a bit of a... break-in. But we still have plenty to sell. Robbers were only after one thing. An ornament, solid gold. In the shape of a Dragon's claw."

I looked at Milos, who rolled his eyes. I grinned. "We can help you get the claw back."

"You could?" the man exclaimed. "I've got some coin coming in from my last shipment. It's yours if you bring my claw back. Now, if you're going to get those thieves, you should head to Bleak Falls Barrow, northeast of town." He smiled mischievously. "Yes, so now you don't have to go, do you?"

The question was directed at the woman, who glared at him again. "Oh really? Well, I think your new helpers here need a guide."

"Wh—no... I... oh by the Eight, fine! But only to the edge of town!"

She got up and exited the shop, not even casting a glance at the man at the counter. Milos sighed and followed her out, and I followed him.

"We have to go through town and across the bridge to get to Bleak Falls Barrow," she informed us. "You can see it from here, though. The mountain just over the buildings."

I looked up to where she was pointing. The Barrow looked menacing and... broody. Like it was just daring someone to come and explore it.

She started walking, lost in her own thoughts. "Those thieves must be mad, hiding out there. Those old crypts are filled with nothing but traps, trolls, and who knows what else! I wonder why they only stole Lucan's golden claw. I mean, we have plenty of things in the shop that are worth just as much coin. Lucan found the claw about a year after he opened the store. He never quite explained where he got it. He's a tricky one."

I stubbed my toe on a jutting stone and nearly tripped into her, but managed to stop myself before she turned around to face us. Milos was hiding his smile with his hand as well as he could.

"This is the bridge out of town," she continued, oblivious of my most recent endeavor. "The path up the mountain to the northwest leads to Bleak Falls Barrow. I guess I should get back to my brother. He'll throw a fit if I take too long. Such a child..." She blinked. "Oh, I'm Camilla by the way. Camilla Valerius. My brother was the man inside the shop, named Lucan." She waved as she headed back into Riverwood. "Good luck."

Milos waved back sheepishly. He caught me looking at him. "What?"

"She was looking at you funny," I told him as I started on the bridge. "I think she likes you."

"You think?" Milos asked, taking another look at her. "Hm... Maybe you Imperials think I'm just that attractive."

"Twenty Septims that she asks if you're available when we come back with the claw."

He grinned. "You're on. Do you even have twenty Septims?"

"Not yet," I admitted, "though Nordic tombs are infamous for their treasures. I figure we could find something to sell to the Riverwood Trader."

We made it to the other side of the bridge. "Speaking of which," Milos said, "we didn't sell or buy anything while we were there."

I facepalmed. It had _totally_ slipped my mind.


	5. Tracking Thieves

Chapter Four:

Tracking Thieves

Milos and I clambered up the narrow mountain path, keeping a good distance from each other. If one of us fell, at least the other wouldn't follow. At the base of the mountain, we had an encounter with a few wolves, but they'd been dispatched easily enough. As we climbed higher, the greenery and warmth quickly disappeared and was replaced with the snow and harsh cold that bit through our Imperial armour.

"I should've c-changed while we were i-in Riverwood..." I grumbled disapprovingly through chattering teeth.

"I k-k-know what you m-mean. I'm c-cold-blooded, but that d-d-doesn't mean I enjoy s-s-snow." Milos breathed hot breath into his hands and rubbed them together to create friction.

I summoned some fire magicka into my palms and rested them on Milos' shoulders. He nodded in thanks, not wanting to try to thank me with shivers instead.

Soon, the wind stopped blowing, but it was still snowing. It got a bit warmer for us, so I conserved my magicka and put out the flames. Milos pointed to a watch tower in the distance.

"Two people outside," he told me, his sharp eyes surveying the scene. "Armed. They don't look like Imperials or Stormcloaks."

I drew my bow and nocked an arrow. One of the men was leaning up against a tree, while the other was patrolling inside and outside of the watch tower. I waited until the second man had completely entered the keep before I fired my arrow. It hit the first man in the head with a hollow _thunk!_, and he fell into the snow, streaking the pure white flakes crimson.

"What was that?" the second man yelled.

I spotted a third man at the top of the watch tower, scanning for us. I nocked another arrow and let it fly into the second man's chest as he exited the tower. He was only wounded by my arrow, but he fell backwards off of the narrow stone bridge that connected the watch tower to the mountainside, and screamed as he plummeted down. We knew he was dead when his scream was cut-off suddenly.

The third man was already charging towards us, fast for his burly size. Milos was there to meet him, his enormous blade slamming viciously into the man's shield. The shield broke instantly, and the man couldn't bring his blade up fast enough to stop Milos from stabbing the man through the gut.

Milos was pulling his blade out of the man when I approached his corpse. There were a few coins on him, so I took the liberty of relieving him of them. After searching the other corpse (and deciding not to go after the one that fell), we pressed on. Bleak Falls Barrow towered above us, its black stones that had been carved from the mountain looming hauntingly. We found more people (who we decided were the thieves who stole the golden claw) and quickly dispatched them, first by killing them one-by-one with my bow, and when there were two left, Milos killed them swiftly by decapitation. We grabbed whatever coin they had and moved on, not wanting to linger.

We approached the door of the Barrow and opened it quietly. It didn't make a sound as we crept inside, wary that there could be yet more thieves around. It seemed we were right. Without listening to the conversation that the thief man and woman were having, I took them both out, though the woman proved difficult since she was furiously searching for us once I'd killed the man.

Milos plopped himself by the fire, pushing away the male thief's body and grabbing the roasted rabbit from the spittle above the fire. One of my eyebrows rose, to which Milos shrugged.

"I'm hungry," he admitted. "I'm not going after a blasted golden _claw_ on an empty stomach."

"But we ate at Alvor's not even an hour ago!" I argued.

"So?"

I chuckled and sat beside him. "Brings back memories, anyhow."

Milos' Argonian smile curved. "Yep. You're definitely right."

I could remember it as if it was yesterday. It had been barely a week after I'd used the Madame's debt money to buy Milos from the slavers, and she was still fuming at me.

_I stormed out of the orphanage, and didn't stop until I reached the hills outside of Anvil that had a view of its port and lighthouse. An old farm was at my back, one which was rumored that three women had been killed in, after they swindled men out of their belongings, by none other than the Hero of Kvatch. I sat down and pulled my knees up to my chest, staring out at the free waves as they lolled onto the shore._

_ "What are you doing out here?"_

_ Whatever tears I'd had were gone in an instant. The Argonian boy I'd rescued, who said his name was "Hides-His-Heart", was standing a few feet away from me. He was wearing some of the old clothes that I'd had, since the Madame had refused to pay for any. His eyes were large and yellow in his skull, and his horns were stubby, not sharp like many other Argonians. Not yet, anyway._

_ "This place is haunted!" he continued. _

_ I snickered. "Did the guards tell you that?" When he nodded, I grinned. "They like to scare us. As long as we're good little kids and never disobey our elders, we make them happy. But it doesn't make us happy."_

_ Hides-His-Heart sat down beside me and was quiet. I smiled at him, and he returned a toothy one, but that was only for a moment._

_ "You can go anywhere now, you know," I told him. "Not like me. You're free. I have to stay here."_

_ "But you bought me—."_

_ "I _freed_ you." I grinned. "Like Saint Alessia and they Ayleids."_

_ "You're a Nord?"_

_ I shrugged. "I dunno. I don't feel like I belong with the rest of the Imperials here, but this is my home. I've been here ever since I can remember."_

_ Hides-His-Heart looked down at his hands. "So, you've been an orphan all this time?"_

_ I nodded. "What about you?"_

_ "I was not a slave," he said quietly. "My parents were close to the King of Black Marsh, but they contracted a disease while traveling once. I don't remember much, but it was serious, and my parents were killed for fear of others getting the disease. The King thought I had it too, so I fled, and I was picked-up by the slavers near the border of Black Marsh."_

_ "That's... terrible." Hides-His-Heart stood up and started gathering some wood, which he stacked into a pile and surrounded with stones. "Here—I'll help."_

_ We stacked the wood on the hill and then I used some magicka to set the pile aflame. We sat there for hours, staring into the flames, laughing and joking around, and just talking._

_ "So, how do you have a name if you never knew your parents?" Milos asked._

_ I smiled. "The Madame before this one wasn't a hag at all. She named me."_

_ "And your last name?"_

_ "I made it up. Makes me feel more like I'm a person, and not just another name in this place." I patted Hides-His-Heart's head and grinned. "Besides, Greystone sounds cool, doesn't it?"_

_ He nodded._

_ "I have an idea!" I exclaimed. "Since this is your new life, and since we're friends, I'm going to give you a name!"_

_ "But I already have—."_

_ "It'll be fun!" I interjected. "I'm gonna call you... 'Milos'!"_

_ "Why Milos?"_

_ "I'm not telling."_

I grinned at the thought. "So, how'd you find your way into Skyrim?"

"Same as you; I was crossing the border." He snickered. "Though my entrance was a little less humorous."

"What? You've never seen anyone bounce down a mountain before?"

"Not in _that_ manner." Milos fingered the last of the rabbit. "Taryn, what happened? Why did you come to Skyrim?"

"It's..." I frowned. "It's a long story, for another time. We should just go after this thief."

Giving me a "look", Milos popped the rest of the rabbit into his mouth. "Then answer me this: what was with you earlier? When we were escaping Helgen?"

I bit my lip. "Well... Didn't you hear it? The Dragon?"

"I heard it roar. I nearly went deaf from just _that_."

"The Dragon said something!" I insisted. "I heard it yell something, and then it was like I knew what it was saying!"

Milos shrugged and stood up. "Maybe it was the adrenaline talking. But you're right; we need to find that thief."

I sighed and followed Milos into the caverns of Bleak Falls Barrow (after grabbing what money was on the corpses, of course). We descended several levels until we saw another thief ahead of us, carrying a torch. I crouched and poked my head out of the doorframe. He didn't seem to notice us. Milos was about ready to bury his sword into the thief's back, but I held him off. The thief approached a lever in the middle of the room and pulled it. For a moment, nothing happened, and then arrows shot out of the walls. The thief didn't stand a chance. When the arrows ceased, Milos stepped out into the room first.

"Great. So now we have to find a way to open the gate there," he said, pointing at the portcullis opposite us.

"There has to be a trick to this..." I studied the room, glancing quickly over the walls. To the left, there were three stones that looked like the could be moved, and each had a symbol on it. The first was a snake, the second was a whale, and the third was a bird.

"Hey, look at this!" I turned and saw Milos pointing to the ground. He was standing on the snake symbol, but it didn't look moveable like the others. "It must have fallen from the wall."

I looked above us and saw the symbols. The first on the wall was a snake, and the third a whale. I immediately went to the moveable stones and rotated the second until it was a snake as well, and the third until it was a whale.

"Nine help me," I muttered as I pulled the lever.

Luckily, there were no arrows. The portcullis opened, and both Milos and I released a sigh of relief. We continued past the puzzle-room and deeper into the barrow. A chest awaited us, and we looted it easily enough. I picked up a book that had a few good tips to lockpicking as well, and I decided to sit down and read it soon. There were spiraling stairs down into the barrow, and despite the rotting wood we managed well enough, even though some skeevers attacked us as well.

"I hate these things..." I grumbled absently. "So much bigger and more annoying than the rats back in Cyrodiil..."

Milos coughed and suddenly stepped back, wiping something off of his face. "Damn! All these webs are getting in my face!"

"Well, if you weren't so tall, that wouldn't be a problem," I said smartly. "And don't blame it on genetics; I've seen how you eat."

I led from there, bringing down what webs I could with my bow, while Milos crouched and avoided them altogether. We moved past a table and descended more stairs when we found a place that we could not get past without hacking through the tougher webs.

We emerged into a chamber that was barely lit by the light from the outside, peeking through the holes in the ceiling as it was. A man was caught in a web on the other side of the chamber.

"By the Nine... What could have done _that_?" I wondered aloud.

"_That_," was Milos' curt reply.

He shoved me out of the way as a gigantic spider crashed to the ground, screeching and spitting venom everywhere. I grabbed my sword and scrambled to my feet, remembering when we'd faced spiders this size back when we were escaping with Hadvar.

Milos hacked at its legs. The frostbite spider shot out a web and stuck him in it. It approached him, as if it wanted to wrap him in a cocoon, but I leapt forward and got its attention by stabbing it in what would probably be its ass.

It screeched and whirled on me, but my blade was stuck fast in it, and I wasn't letting go. It spun me around with it, and I slammed hard into Milos. At the very least, he wasn't in the web anymore. Milos grabbed his blade and plunged it deep into the frostbite spider's eye, twisting it for good measure. The giant spider groaned as its limbs crumpled beneath it, and it lay there, unmoving.

I pulled my sword from it once I'd gotten up and rubbed my back. "Well, that was fun."

"I enjoyed the part where the spider threw you into me," Milos added, a wry grin on his face.

"You did it," the captured Dark Elf sighed. "You killed it. Now cut me down before anything else shows up!"

"Who are you?" I asked.

"Arvel the Swift," he stated proudly.

"Are you the thief who stole the claw from Lucan Valerius and his sister?" Milos prodded.

I gave him a "look". "There you go, right to the point again."

Arvel didn't seem deterred though. "Yes, the claw! I know how it works. The claw, the markings, the door in the Hall of Stories! I know how they all fit together! Help me down and I'll show you. You won't believe the power the Nords have hidden there."

I could tell just by looking that Milos didn't like it, but he used his bloodied sword to cut Arvel from the webs. He didn't trust the Dark Elf as far as he could throw him (which, literally, would actually be pretty far).

Arvel hit the ground in a crouch, and a wry smile attached to his lips. "You fools, why should I share the treasure with anyone?"

He spun on his heel and sped through the tunnel that had been revealed once he was free. Milos and I sprinted after him, but Arvel was living up to his name. We followed him into a chamber with several corpses on display, all of them centuries old. Just as I reached out to grab Arvel's shoulder and run my blade through his back, something beat me to it. A gigantic battle axe suddenly swung from seemingly nowhere, slamming Arvel the Swift backwards into my blade. I stared in utter horror as one of the corpses—eyes glowing blue with ethereal power, skin rotting on its skeletal body, a helmet adorning its head—rose from its grave, the battleaxe tight in its grasp. It came closer to me, its rancid breath and rotten smell stinging my nostrils, and roared.


	6. Word Wall

Chapter Five:

Word Wall

I shoved my blade deeper through Arvel and pierced through to the corpse's body. It roared again and reached out for my face, raking its skeletal hands against my cheek. I firmly placed my boot against Arvel's back and pulled my sword out of the two corpses, and then spun around, meeting with the corpse's battleaxe. I got under it after parrying and spun around again, this time cutting its head off. It fell to its knees and then to the ground, deader than before this time.

Milos put a hand on my shoulder. I realized then that I was shaking. I looked at him and saw two other corpses, but they were just as dead as Arvel now. Milos had taken care of them.

"Draugr," he said simply. "Legends say that they served Dragons in years long past, led by a Dragon Priest. They were betrayers, and some say that they were cursed into un-death. But whatever the case, one of them that I fought here was a woman." When I was wondering what Milos could have meant by that, he added, "And she had a beard."

I had to go and look for myself. It turned out that she did. "I hope not all Nord women are like that."

"Only the ones that live in the mountains," he said lightly. "We should press on. Grab the claw and we can head back—."

"But I want to explore some more!" I exclaimed suddenly. "Aren't you a bit curious?"

"I am, but I'm not so keen to run into more of _these_."

I grabbed the golden claw and Arvel's journal off of the Dark Elf's corpse. "Hey, if there's a good reward at the end, it'll be worth it!"

Milos sighed, but didn't argue any longer. The next time he spoke, it was to warn me of an incoming pressure plate, which would have activated a nasty little wall covered in spikes. I could see a few corpses still stuck on it as we walked past.

As we walked, I opened Arvel's journal and surveyed the contents. He was an interesting man, to say the least, but obsessed with whatever laid behind the door in the Hall of Stories.

_"__My fingers are trembling,"_ he wrote. _"The__ golden claw __is finally in my hands, and with it, the power of the ancient Nordic heroes. That fool Lucan Valerius had no idea that his favorite store decoration was actually the key to Bleak Falls Barrow. Now I just need to get to the Hall of Stories and unlock the door. The legend says there is a test that the Nords put in place to keep the unworthy away, but that 'when you have the golden claw, the solution is in the palm of your hands'."_

_ This may come in handy,_ I thought as I stuffed it into my pack.

We heard some movement and instantly had our blades in our hands. Draugr slowly sat up in their graves, moaning and roaring. Instantly, we were attacking them like no tomorrow, not even waiting for them to grab their weapons. Only one actually managed to try and hit us back, but he was taken care of swiftly.

We pressed on, looting what we wanted from their corpses. It seemed that they had a few gold pieces each on them, so it was useful.

"Blades," Milos said suddenly. "Looks like we're not getting past without a few scratches."

Pendelums swang in rhythm in the corridor ahead of us, probably activated by something we hadn't seen earlier. I was just surprised that they were still in working order.

"One of us can go through and maybe find a switch to shut it down," I suggested.

Milos stepped forward. "I'll go. You should just relax for a second."

"And how can I relax knowing that I might be finishing this dungeon alone?"

"Very well." Milos timed each step, only being nicked once before he made it to the end. He was more nimble than I gave him credit for. As he pulled the switch on the other side, he snickered. "Looks like you're stuck with me for a while longer."

"Well, at least you're a good distraction for any monsters we see on the way," I quipped. "Better than them focusing on me all the time."

We passed more bodies, but most of them were skeletons, and none jumped up to attack us. Well, until we went down the steps. Then a draugr stepped down from his resting place and ran at us with a battle axe.

Milos rammed his shoulder into the draugr's chest, knocking any breath it probably didn't have out of its lungs as it hit the wall. I sank my blade into the draugr's face, and that was the end of that.

Continuing on, we encountered yet another draugr, but I saw a trap. Stopping Milos, I pulled my bow and shot an arrow at an overhanging lantern. It first fell onto the draugr's head, but it shattered once it hit the floor. The floor ignited as the flames licked the oil on the floor, and the draugr, being about as dry as parchment, caught fire almost instantly. The draugr panicked, but couldn't put out the flames. It met its end.

But two more came around the corner. That was when Milos lunged forward, leaping through the flames, and brought his blade down on both of their skulls at the same time.

"Good hit," I commented.

"You're not so bad yourself," he replied with a grin.

We'd tred a bit more carefully after that. When we emerged into a cavern with water cascading down a wall, a draugr broke out of its stone coffin. Milos saw an axe beside us, picked it up, and tossed it at the draugr. It was dead before the battle even began, and I was grateful for that.

We opened a portcullis opposite the waterfall and followed the stream, careful not to make much noise. The next room we entered had some strange plants glowing on some of the rock formations which lit our path. As we neared another waterfall, I peered over it. A draugr was patrolling a make-shift bridge, so I made quick work of it with my bow. When we found ourselves on the bridge, we took what gold was on its body and continued onwards. That was when we came into a last, well-lit chamber.

It was just as ruined as the rest of the barrow, but the doors at the other end gave it a feeling of importance, as if it guarded something. My curiousity piqued, I quietly made my way into the room.

A draugr saw me, and before I could react, its greatsword was in its hands. I fumbled for my blade, now sheathed, but Milos was there for me. Milos locked blades with the draugr, both pushing at each other with equal strength, despite how fragile the corpse looked. They pulled away from each other and began an onslaught of attacks, Milos even leaving himself open a few times in order to deliver stronger hits. When I'd finally pulled my blade from my sheathe, the draugr was dead.

"Thanks," I breathed. "I owe you."

"I owe you more. That just makes us even for one time. I have tons more to go."

I snickered, but we headed to the doors. Pushing them open (with our shoulders, as they were stubborn), we emerged into another cavern, and continued on until we reached another set of deadly pendulums. Milos didn't wait for me to offer to go; he just went, and deactivated them easily enough.

But we were soon face-to-rotting-face with several other draugr. We hacked our way past them, avoiding any incoming arrows and praying to the Nine that the glowing eyes were just for show. Apparently, they weren't. Before we could take down the last archer, it buried an arrow in my right shoulder. Pain exploded down my arm about as fast as my blood was falling, and I had to bite my lip to avoid crying out in pain.

Milos killed the archer and then came over to me. He deftly pulled the ancient arrow from my shoulder and looked at the wound. I was looking too. It was pretty nasty.

"I'll just... cast a spell!" I said, gritting my teeth. "Give me a moment."

Remembering my lessons about healing magicka, I calmed myself down and summoned it into my palm. I pressed my hand gently against the wound, and it was fine in no time, if a little sore.

"I prefer to keep the scars," Milos said.

"Yes, well, the only scar I'm keeping is the one on my face, simply because I didn't get to it in time." I got to my feet and grabbed my fallen sword. "Let's go; I'm sure we're close by now."

Climbing the stairs in the room and passing over bridges, we'd treaded carefully, desperately wishing that there weren't any more draugr to fight. And then, finally, we reached another set of double-doors. When we opened this set, we felt as if we were being invited into the hall revealed to us. Pictures adorned the walls of the hall, and I found myself drawn to them. One I was studying depicted many draugr bowing to another one, but it was clad in a long robe and wore a mask on his face.

"The Hall of Stories..." Milos breathed. "The Nords definitely weren't compensating for something."

"I'd hope not," I remarked. "Pretty extreme to build something this big if you were worried about something so small."

Milos and I finally got to the end of the hall, and were faced with a strange door. It had three dials on it, each longer than the other, and a place that would seem to fit the claw at its centre. I fished the claw out of my pack and inserted it into the hole, but it didn't get in far enough, and nothing happened.

"And how the hell're we supposed to get past now?" Milos grumbled, crossing his arms.

"Well... '_when you have the golden claw, the solution is in the palm of your hands_'," I recited. "Arvel's going to help us after all."

I looked at my palm, and then realized that there were two palm that I needed to look at. One being the palm that held the claw, and the golden claw's palm. Sure enough, it had a few symbols etched into it.

I moved the dials, putting the owl symbol at the bottom dial, the moth at the middle, and the bear at the top. I then inserted the claw again, and the door moved. The puzzle-door groaned as its ancient gears got to work, and then the door slid downwards, out of our sight.

"Well, what do you know?" Milos remarked. "You've gotten good at problem-solving."

"I had to learn, or else the Madame would hit me with her damned stick," I replied. "Hag."

Milos was laughing as we stepped into the cavern. It was huge and spacious, with a waterfall, many other rock formations, and some odd wall opposite us. Milos and I crossed the bridge and climbed the stairs, eyeing the stone coffin warily. I touched the odd wall in curiousity. It had markings scratched into it, but they seemed to mean something. A language, probably.

I used a piece of charcoal that I found by the coffin and some large parchment and started to bring the words onto the page. I didn't want to write them down for fear of getting them wrong. Milos, meanwhile, was sifting through a chest beside the coffin. When I'd finished, I looked at my work and nodded in approval. I glanced at the wall once more, but this time, something caught my eye. One of the words were glowing.

I approached it carefully and looked at Milos. He was still looking through the chest, and I didn't want to worry him by pointing at a glowing word. We had already dealt with corpses that had glowing eyes.

I studied the word, running my hand across the rough stone surface. Its glow increased for just a moment and blurred my vision, but it remained abstinant of hurting me.

"Force..." I muttered.

Wondering why that word came to my head, I shrugged and started back to Milos. Suddenly, the top of the coffin ripped off and came flying at Milos. He was slammed into the trunk and toppled over the edge of the platform, landing roughly,

I drew my sword and ran at the draugr. I met it, blade for blade, and kicked my leg out. Its own leg broke as mine connected with it, but it seemed undaunted. The draugr's sword cut my left arm, but only slightly. However, it sent insant pain through my arm as ice settled on the wound. Its sword was enchanted. I leapt back, grabbed my bow, and loosed an arrow as the draugr came close. It hit the draugr in the eye, and I could take a breath of relief.

Milos got to his feet and cracked his back. "I think we're done here," he mused.

"Hells yes." I sheathed my bow and fallen sword, and we headed upwards, following a path. "Let's hope we don't have to come back here."

Milos suddenly stopped and ran back to the corpse of the draugr. When he came back, he showed me a funny tablet.

"This may come in handy later," he told me. "I think we'd better keep it."

I nodded, remembering the words from the wall that were now in my pack. "Well, as long as we came out of here with a lesson."

"And what lesson would that be?" Milos asked, obviously entertained.

"Get better weapons before you traverse into dungeons."


	7. The City of Whiterun

Chapter Six:

The City of Whiterun

We emerged into the sunlight of a new day. We'd been in the barrow for a full night, it seemed. Both of us were tired an weary, but we had to turn back to Riverwood and return Lucan's golden claw. We stopped for only a few minutes before we made our way back to riverwood, taking the easier, longer path, rather than the shorter, mountain-climbing way. By noon, we had returned to the small village, both of us about ready to fall asleep standing.

But still, because we were such nice people, we ignored the urge to get a bed at the inn and sleep. We walked straight into Lucan's shop, mostly dragging our feet.

"We have the golden claw," I grumbled as I thrust it into Lucan's hands.

He didn't seem worried about the gesture though. He could probably see how tired we were. "You found it? Haha! There it is! Strange... it seems smaller than I remember. Funny thing, huh? I'm going to put this back where it belongs. I'll never forget this. You've done a great thing for me and my sister."

Lucan put the claw on his counter with as much care as he would his own child. Or, at least, I hoped he would. We traded for a few things afterward, and Lucan gave us a nice discount on his wares. I had a nice new longsword now, and a bow, while Milos apted for the greatswords again. With new steel, and a bit of new armour for Milos, we headed to the inn for a room, and some food and drink.

Actually, once we'd gotten the room, we skipped the food and drink and went straight to our beds. I slept like a rock for hours and awoke the next morning. Milos, however, was still sleeping. I stretched, quickly changed into the novice robes I'd found when we were in Helgen, and then went outside our room for some food aroun the fireplace.

A woman approached me. She was definitely Imperial and had blonde hair, and she was considerably older than I was, but not old enough to have any grey in her hair.

"What would you like?" she asked, though it seemed a bit forced, like she wasn't used to taking people's orders. "I'm Delphine, so tell me what it'll be."

"Cooked venison and Honningbrew Mead, please."

She eyed me for a moment before she left to get what I'd ordered. I'd pocketed the words from the wall in the barrow and brought them out now, in order to study them. Arvel's journal didn't mention anything about this strange language, and it must have been a rare sight to see.

_It almost looks like these so-called "words" weren't chisseled into the rock,_ I thought as I studied the bumps and the uneven curves. _It looks more like it was scratched into this rock forcefully..._

When I heard Delphine returning, I pocketed the words again, suddenly wary of what Milos and I had found. She'd given me a smaller glass of Honningbrew Mead, probably because Alvor had been in the inn while Milos and I were after the claw, and told Delphine that I'd never tried the mead before. I thanked her gratefully and tried my first sip. It was an odd taste, cold as it went in my mouth but hot as it slid down my throat, and it tasted strangely like honey. The venison was a great mix with it, and I found that I enjoyed the mead a lot.

"You're up?" Milos, if he'd had hair, would probably have a bed-head. He was just one of those people. "Hey, can I get some of that?"

I called to Delphine and asked for another order of venison and mead as Milos sat down beside me, opening his great maw to yawn.

"Man, your mouth got big," I remarked jokingly.

He rubbed his eyes. "And yours has gotten excersize."

I was laughing when Delphine returned with the second order, and I paid her there for the food and drinks. She was nice enough.

Milos had finished his breakfast in a matter of moments. "You've changed clothes," he observed.

I nodded. "I couldn't stand that Imperial armour any more. I mean, you've got new armour, so why shouldn't I?"

"Well, it definitely feels more comforable on me. It's nice to have some banded iron armour. More defence, and I'm not running around in a skirt."

"Here, here," I agreed, holding my mead up. "Plus, this is tons more flexible. I can start killing draugrs efficently now. And maybe you can impale them on your horns."

"I don't want a bath in old blood, thanks." Milos downed his mead in one large gulp and shook his head quickly. "Wow. That's not too bad."

"Did you actually manage to taste it? I think it may have skipped your tongue and gone straight to your stomach."

Milos grinned. "So, we're heading to Whiterun next?"

I nodded. "We need to let this Balgruuf guy know that Riverwood needs some protection. And then, we can do whatever the hell we want."

"Sounds good. I don't mind adventuring, as it is."

Milos and I stood up and grabbed our packs and weapons out of our room. Just before we left Riverwood, we met Camilla Valerius at the bridge. As I went forward to allow them some "alone time", I heard Camilla ask if Milos was single.

I honestly didn't care about his reply. He now owed me twenty septims.

And once he had paid me on the road, I was content.

"So, what'd you tell her?" I asked.

"I said I was available," he replied. "You never know. I may want to settle down with someone after I'm done adventuring, and she's nice enough."

I snickered. "Milos and Camilla, sitting in a tree..."

"M-I-A-M-I-N-G." Milos was smiling. "I definitely still need you as my adventuring partner. I need to kill things every once-in-a-while."

"I'm touched."

We followed the path, once running into a skooma dealer, and another time we watched three men singing as they drank Honningbrew Mead. I made a mental note not to get that drunk, because my singing would probably resemble that of a Hagraven's.

A mill came into view first, and Milos and I stopped for a bit to help out by picking some wheat and potatoes. Not long after, we spotted some people fighting a giant, so we helped. I showered it with arrows, and Milos went in close, as usual.

One of them commented on our fighting skills, and once we'd had a short conversation we continued on. We passed the Honningbrew Meadery (Milos was looking longingly at it), and soon found ourselves at the lower gates of Whiterun, near the stables.

"Well, that didn't take long," I said cheerfully. "We'll be adventuring in no time!"

We walked up the sloping, curving path to Whiterun, even crossing a drawbridge, when we made it to the main gates. A guard saw us coming and walked over to us. I suddenly wondered if Hadvar had betrayed us by reporting us, or if the Thalmor had a bounty in Skyrim on my head.

"Halt!" he ordered. "The city's closed with the Dragons about. Official business only."

I cleared my throat. "I-I have news from Helgen, about the Dragon attack."

"Fine," the guard said after a moment of deliberation, "but we'll be keeping an eye on you."

The guard moved back to his post and crossed his arms as we opened the door to Whiterun. It was a quaint place, and seemed nice enough, but I didn't spend much time examining it. I ignored most of the conversations around me as Milos and I walked to the main keep, called Dragonsreach. We jogged up the steps, past a guard who was eyeing us suspiciously, and entered Dragonsreach through the giant double-doors.

The keep was large and spacious. The Jarl's throne was at the back of the room, centred, while two tables were on either side of the room, filled with food and drink. I could hear Milos' stomach growl at the sight of it. There was also a huge skull—a huge _Dragon's_ skull—hanging above the Jarl's throne.

Milos and I climbed the last few steps to meet with the Jarl, but as we approached, a Dark Elf laid here sights on us and drew her sword, glaring at us darkly.

"What's the meaning of this interruption?" she growled. "Jarl Balgruuf is not receiving any visitors.

"I have news from Helgen," I insisted, standing my ground, "about the Dragon attack."

"Well, that explains why the guards let you in. Come on then, the Jarl will want to speak with you personally." The Dark Elf sheathed her blade, but her hand remained on its hilt. She led us forward, closer to the Jarl, until we reached the smaller steps to his throne. Jarl Balgruuf was dressed similarly to Ulfric Stormcloak, but his robe contained less blue and more gold. The Jarl was sporting a true Nord beard, and had a small crown atop his head. His blue eyes were sharp with experience, but also soft with age. I immediately felt like I could trust this man with my life.

"So, you were at Helgen?" the Jarl inquired. "You saw this Dragon with your own eyes?"

"The Dragon destroyed Helgen. And last I saw, it was heading this way," I told him.

The Jarl leaned forward in his throne and looked to the man on his right, who was wearing noble garments and had a hooked nose. Those kinds of people I always labeled as the snobby rich type. I ignored my feelings about him though.

"What do you say now, Proventus? Shall we continue to trust the strength of our walls? Against a Dragon?"

"My lord," the Dark Elf interjected, "we should send troops to Riverwood at once. It's in the most immediate danger. If that Dragon is lurking in the mountains..."

"The Jarl of Falkreath will view that as a provocation!" Proventus exclaimed. "He'll assume we're planning to take Ulfric's side and attack him!"

"Enough!" Balgruuf barked, silencing Proventus. "I'll not stand idly by while a Dragon burns my hold and slaughters my people!" The Jarl looked to his Dark Elf. "Irileth, send a detachment to Riverwood at once."

Irileth bowed her head. "Yes, my Jarl."

Proventus' lip curled in a reminiscent of a sneer. "If you'll excuse me, I'll return to my duties," he said.

"That would be best," Balgruuf replied coldly. When Proventus had walked away, Balgruuf sighed and returned his attention to Milos and I. "Well done," he said to us. "You sought me out, on your own initiative. You've done Whiterun a service, and I won't forget it. There is another thing you could do for me. Suitable for someone of your particular talents, perhaps. Come, let's go find Farengar, my court wizard. He's been looking into the matter related to these Dragons and... rumors of Dragons."

Balgruuf stood and led me to the wall on the right, which opened up into what looked like a lab. Potions were strewn about, as well as diagrams and such. A man was bent over a piece of parchment, draped in a blue robe and hood of a wizard.

I walked ahead of the Jarl and got the wizard's attention. He was a Nord man, with mutton chops as a beard on his face, but he looked friendly enough.

"The Jarl said you had a project that you needed help with," I told him.

"Hm? What? Project? You think you could help me? I really don't think so." His nattering made me reconsider my initial opinion of him. Milos was already rubbing his temples. "So the Jarl thinks you can be of use to me?" he added once the Jarl gave him a nod. "Oh, yes, he must be referring to my research into the Dragons. Yes, I could use someone to fetch something for me. Well, when I say fetch, I really mean delve into a dangerous ruin in search of an ancient stone tablet that may or may not actually be there."

I looked at Milos, who was already searching through his pack. He held up the stone tablet he'd taken off of the last draugr's corpse. "You mean this thing?"

Balgruuf and Farengar both looked impressed, but Farengar's expression lasted for only a moment. Balgruuf left quietly, smiling to himself. "Where did you...? Never mind, you have it now. This is where your job ends and mine begins. The work of the mind, sadly undervalued in Skyrim."

"Farengar!" Irileth sprinted into the room, her face even more serious than before (which had seemed hard to top, initially). "Farengar, you need to come at once! A Dragon's been sighted nearby." She nodded to Milos and I. "You should come too."

"A Dragon!" Farengar exclaimed (almost like a little girl). "How exciting! Where was it seen? What was it doing?"

"I'd take this a bit more seriously if I were you," Irileth growled. "If a Dragon decides to attack Whiterun I don't know if we can stop it."

Irileth led us all up the stairs, on the right of Balgruuf's throne, right to the Jarl, and a rather battered guard.

"So," the Jarl said, "Irileth tells me you came from the western watchtower?"

The guard nodded, shakily. Irileth sighed. "Tell him what you told me. About the Dragon."

"Uh... that's right," the guard said, answering Balgruuf's question. "We saw it coming from the south. It was fast... faster than anything I'd ever seen."

"What did it do?" the Jarl pressed. "Is it attacking the watchtower?"

"No, my lord. It was just circling overhead when I left. I never ran so fast in my life... I thought it would come after me for sure."

"Good work, son. We'll take it from here. Head down to the barracks for some food and rest. You've earned it." The guard bowed and headed down the steps, still shaking. "Irileth, you'd better gather some guardsmen and get down there."

"I've already ordered my men to muster near the main gate," she said.

"Good. Don't fail me." The Jarl looked at Milos and I. "There's no time to stand on ceremony, my friends. I need your help again." I really dreaded what I knew the Jarl was about to say. "I want you to go with Irileth and help her fight this Dragon. You survived Helgen, so you have more experience with Dragons than anyone else here. But I haven't forgotten the service you did for me in retrieving the Dragonstone for Farengar. As a token of my esteem, I have instructed Avenicci that you are now permitted to purchase property in the city."

The Jarl exchanged a few words with Irileth and Farengar while Milos and I looked at each other, both of us holding a frown.

"We're allowed to purchase property in the city..." Milos mused. "Hear that? If we don't end up in the belly of a Dragon, we are _permitted_ to buy a home here."

I shrugged. "Well, we'll take what we can get. Now, let's go get that Dragon!"


	8. The Dragon Mirmulnir

Chapter Seven:

The Dragon Mirmulnir

Irileth led us out of Dragonsreach at a run. People who saw us pass looked at us for only a moment before going about their business again, completely oblivious to what was going on. They would know when the roars would reach them.

We finally met a contingent of four guards at the main gates of Whiterun. Milos and I stood behind them while Irileth paced in front of us, thinking about what she could say.

"Here's the situation," she started. "A Dragon is attacking the western watchtower."

"A Dragon?" one of the guards exclaimed.

"Now we're in for it," another grumbled.

Irileth met their eyes (which were hidden behind helmets). "You heard right! I said a Dragon! I don't much care where it came from or who sent it. What I do know is that it's made the mistake of attacking Whiterun!"

"But Housecarl..." one of the guards gulped against his better judgment, "how can we fight a Dragon?"

"That's a fair question," Irileth replied quietly. "None of us have ever seen a Dragon before, or expected to face one in battle. But we are honorbound to fight it, even if we fail. This Dragon is threatening our homes... our families. Could you call yourselves Nords if you ran from this monster? Are you going to let me face this thing alone?"

A guard looked back at us. "We're so dead..." he muttered while the rest of the guards supported Irileth.

"But it's more than our honor that is at stake here," Irileth continued. "Think of it—the first Dragon seen in Skyrim since the last age. The glory of killing it is ours, if you're with me! Now what do you say? Shall we go kill us a Dragon?"

"Yeah!"

"Damn right!"

I grinned at Milos. "Well, maybe this one'll be nice and just let us kill it."

"I doubt it," he replied, "but it'd be a nice change from what we've recently been experiencing."

"Let's move out," Irileth commanded.

We followed Irileth and the guards out the gates and down the path to the western watchtower. What had once been a mighty tower of stone was nothing more that a pile of smoldering rubble, with corpses of guards strewn about, most of them charred until they would be unrecognizable to their families. I resisted the urge to plug my nose from the stench.

Irileth led us all behind a rock, where we had a good view of the ruined tower. "No signs of any Dragons right now, but it sure looks like he's been here. I know it looks bad, but we've got to figure out what happened. And if that Dragon is still stalking around somewhere." Irileth drew her sword, and the guards did so as well. "Spread out and look for survivors. We need to know what we're dealing with."

We approached the ruined tower warily, some of the guards scanning the skies while others slowed their pace further. Milos and I were ahead of the group in no time. My heart was hammering in my chest when I was forced to step over some corpses to get closer to the tower. I wondered if this was going to be the same black Dragon that was at Helgen. He had been a fearsome beast, and not one I wanted to see again any time soon.

I saw movement inside the watchtower and found a way in after climbing on some stones.

"No!" a man's voice yelled as I approached the opening. "Get back! It's still here somewhere! Hroki and Tor just got grabbed when they tried to make a run for it!" I could see he was a guard, as he was wearing the yellow regalia of Whiterun, but he'd lost his helmet, and he was shaking in a corner of the tower. "Kynareth save us," he muttered, "here he comes again!"

I heard a roar in the distance, but it started to get closer. The roar made goosebumps appear almost immediately on my arms, as I remembered hearing the Dragon at Helgen speak. I looked to the mountains in the distance, dreading seeing the black Dragon fly towards us, with its red eyes intent on finishing what it had started in Helgen.

"Talos save us!" a guard screamed. "It's a Dragon!"

It wasn't the Dragon from Helgen. This dragon was brown, with a silver underside and very few spikes adorning his head. He roared at us as he came closer, his massive wings beating slowly.

The guard in the tower pushed Milos aside and bumped into me, but ran right out of the tower, intent on escape. The Dragon dived, its speed incredible, and scooped the guard up in one gulp of its mouth. As the Dragon banked towards us, the blood of the unfortunate guard rained down on Irileth and the rest of the guards, some of the remaining body parts even coming back to the ground.

I grabbed my bow and started to fire arrows at it as fast as I could, but my hands were fumbling and shaking. I was as likely to hit the Dragon as I was the broad side of a house.

The Dragon landed atop the ruined tower and looked down at us. I could almost see it sneering at us, in a similar manner that Milos would.

"Thurri du hin sille ko Sovngarde!" the Dragon roared at us. _**"Overlords devour your soul in Sovngarde!"**_

There it was again! I'd heard another Dragon speak! At the very least, I had confirmation that I wasn't mad... Or that I was.

The Dragon leapt off the tower and barreled towards us. I switched my bow for my sword and charged at the Dragon, forgetting my fears so I could (hopefully) kill it. I ran into the plain across from the tower and started shouting all sorts of curses (most having been learnt from the sailors in Anvil) to the Dragon to get its attention.

It worked. The Dragon turned his attention towards me and landed on the ground. For a second, the Dragon and I locked gazes. Yellow eyes bored into my green. _Mirmulnir_. For some reason, I knew the name of this Dragon. I wondered for a moment if it knew mine. I took precious few seconds to bunch up the muscles in my legs. I was right to do so. The Mirmulnir loosed a breath of fire at my position, and I managed to dive out of the way. I hacked at it, cutting through its wing to bone. Mirmulnir didn't seem to like it very much, because he stepped on me.

"Krif krin. Pruzah!" the Dragon growled. _**"Fight courageously. Good!"**_

I was on my back, gasping for air, when Milos, Irileth and the guards finally caught up. Mirmulnir dug his claws into the earth and around me as I struggled to get up from under its foot, but his claws acted as a cage. The next thing I knew, Milos had buried his greatsword into Mirmulnir's tail, and Mirmulnir had taken off... with me clasped in his foot.

"Brit grah. _**Beautiful battle.**_ I had forgotten what fine sport you mortals can provide!" The Dragon almost seemed to be laughing.

When we were a good few hundred feet in the air, I finally managed to wriggle my sword arm out of the make-shift claw prison. I hacked into Mirmulnir's leg again and again, hoping that the Dragon would release me. Before he did, one of his claws pierced my gut, drawing blood. I started to fall.

The arrows had ceased, probably for fear of hitting me, so at least I was lucky in that department. Mirmulnir came flying at me, his jaws open and ready to devour me. I released my sword, letting it fall ahead of me, and grabbed my bow. I drew an arrow and aimed it directly at the Dragon's head, gauging how fast I was falling in hopes that I wouldn't miss the shot.

As Mirmulnir came close, I loosed the arrow. It missed his brain, but hit his eye. He roared and missed me, but I bounced on his skull and managed to roll (painfully) all the way to his tail. I hit the ground painfully, just seconds after Mirmulnir had plowed into the ground, raising the land and some of the stones. Milos was there to help me up, and then he was off to help Irileth and the guards fight the Dragon, who was getting back to its feet.

"You are brave," it said. "Balaan hokoron. _**Worthy enemies. **_Your defeat brings me honor!"

I cast a healing spell on myself, grabbed my fallen sword and ran at the Dragon, not waiting for my wounded flesh to knit together or my head to stop ringing.

_Thank the Nine I managed to hit it!_ I thought with relief. _I would've been eaten or died when I hit the ground if I hadn't!_

Mirmulnir swung his massive, wounded tail around, slamming the guards away and killing two as they were impaled on some wood from the watchtower. Irileth swung her sword on the underside of the Dragon, cutting him, but he snapped at her with his massive jaws and breathed fire at her. Irileth's arm caught on fire, and she desperately beat at the flames, retreating for the moment. Milos was pinned by the Dragon under its wing, and he was pushing with all of his strength to get away. I sprinted, ignoring the pain and how stupid I was being, and just as Mirmulnir was about to take a bite out of Milos' head, I skidded in front of its mouth and the Dragon bit down on my sword instead. It shook me from side-to-side, but I refused to release my sword. Mirmulnir threw his head into the air and released my sword, then opened his mouth wide to consume me whole.

I twisted in the air, begging the Nine to help me with silent prayers, and managed to avoid his jaws, driving my sword into the Dragon's brain. It roared in agony and released Milos, stumbling around and losing its strength.

"Dovahkiin...!" it rumbled as we met eyes once more. _**"Dragonborn...!"**_ Mirmulnir's head hit the ground, and I released my sword again to roll onto the ground, panting with exhaustion and sheer terror. "N-_No_...!"

Mirmulnir's entire, massive body went limp, finally defeated. Its remaining yellow eye glazed over in its death, and stared at me as I sat on the ground, breathing deeply, staring at the blade deep in his head. I was shaking, glad it was over, but I knew that the black Dragon was still out there, and there could be more Dragons like this one.

Milos crouched and put an arm around my shoulder to stop me from shaking. "Taryn, are you okay?" he asked. "No bones broken?"

I shook my head. "N-No. Mirmulnir managed to stop my fall. Unintentionally, of course. He _was_ trying to eat me."

"Mirmulnir?" Milos repeated.

"The name of the Dragon. Didn't you hear it speak?"

"I heard it speak some common. I never heard it say _that_."

"It... uh, didn't."

Milos seemed like he was trying to think of a reply to that while he was helping me up. Maybe I was just a bit crazy.

"Are you two okay?" Irileth asked. "Wounds?"

I examined Milos and saw a few cuts across his chest that had gotten through his armour. I summoned some magicka and healed the cut, and took away the scar as well, despite what he'd said about them.

"None anymore," Milos told the Dark Elf, a bit of sadness in his voice (from the loss of his new scar, no doubt). "What about you?"

"I cast a spell. I'll be all right." Irileth surveyed the damage. "Three guards dead, two wounded, but we'll survive. Those guards will be honored."

Milos looked at the new corpses around the battlefield. I was about ready to get back to Whiterun when I heard a burning behind me, and felt the heat of fire. Worried that the Dragon wasn't really dead, I whirled around, suddenly groping for my bow. But the Dragon, Mirmulnir, was dead. I released the bow on my back and breathed a sigh of relief. I didn't know if I could take on any more Dragons for a while. But the sound and feeling of something burning didn't leave.

"Milos?" I called, beckoning him closer to me. "The Dragon... its burning."

Milos stood by my side while we watched Mirmulnir's scales break from his body, like ashes in a fire. Indeed, they glowed orange and evaporated into thin air, but the orange aura remained. It floated above the Dragon's body, slowly sifting in the wind, but didn't move from its place. The Dragon was soon nothing more than bones with a sword stuck in its skull, but still looked menacing.

"Taryn, move back," Milos warned me, putting a hand on my shoulder as he stared at the orange aura. "I don't like this."

"What's happening?" a guard slurred. He and his companion had finally returned to consciousness.

"Everybody, get back!" Irileth ordered.

Milos moved me behind him and gripped his greatsword tightly. He'd always hated when he was faced against something he didn't know, and that was why he'd gone through the trouble of learning all sorts of lore and legends, just-in-case he came up against something like a draugr. I knew this orange aura was unsettling him.

The aura suddenly blasted forward, towards Milos and I. It passed through Milos, barely affecting him at all. That was a relief. But my hope that it would do the same to me was incredibly short-lived. As if it were a battering ram, it slammed violently into me—_inside_ of me—and sent me flying. When I hit the ground, I was rolling for a time before I came to a complete, painful stop. I felt like I was on fire. My bones and muscles felt like they were liquefying from the sheer heat. I felt sick, but the feeling left quickly, and I was just left with a slight fever... and a few bruises from rocks I'd landed on. Not to mention a word that had popped into my head.

"Taryn!" Milos was with me in a second. "Taryn! By the Eight, are you all right?"

I rubbed my forehead. "Ugh... That kind of hurt..."

"_Kind of_? You damn idiot! You were blown almost twenty feet away! What the hell happened?"

"I dunno," I admitted. "Maybe it's a Dragon attack or something?"

"An attack that's inside your body! How do I get it out?" Milos grabbed his greatsword.

"Woah!" I exclaimed, putting my hands in front of my body in a sad imitation of defense. "I don't think cutting or stabbing me is gonna get it out!"

A guard suddenly ran up to me. His helmet was off, either discarded or ripped off during the fight, and the look he gave me was just... it almost seemed like awe.

"I can't believe it!" he breathed. "You're... Dragonborn...!"

One of my eyebrows rose. "Dragonborn? Last I checked I didn't have wings on my back and a fetish for eating two-legged things."

"In the very oldest tales, back from when there were still Dragons in Skyrim, the Dragonborn would slay Dragons and steal their power," the guard explained as Irileth and the other guard approached. "That's what you did, isn't it?" the guard pressed. "Absorbed that Dragon's power?"

I blinked. "I-I don't know what happened to me. I was just thrown the length of a Dragon when it hit me."

"There's only one way to find out," the guard said. "Try to Shout... that would prove it. According to the old legends, only the Dragonborn can Shout without training, the way the Dragons do."

"Dragonborn?" the other guard repeated. "What are you talking about?"

"That's right! My grandfather used to tell stories of the Dragonborn." Another guard, probably sent by the Jarl, approached us. "Those born with the Dragon Blood in 'em. Like old Tiber Septim himself."

"I never heard of Tiber Septim killing any Dragons," another guard spoke up. It seemed the Jarl had sent us reinforcements, a bit too late.

"There weren't any Dragons then, idiot," the first guard growled. "They're just coming back for the first time in... forever. But the tales tell of the Dragonborn who could kill Dragons and steal their power." The guard looked at me, dead in the eye. "You _must_ be one!"

"What do you say, Irileth?" the skeptical guard asked. "You're being awfully quiet."

"Come on, Irileth," the second guard said, "tell us, do you believe in this Dragonborn business?"

Irileth narrowed her eyes at the guards. "Hmph. Some of you would be better off keeping quiet than flapping your gums on matters you don't know anything about. Here's a dead Dragon, and that's something I definitely understand. Now we know we can kill them. But I don't need some mystical Dragonborn. Someone who can put down a Dragon is more than enough for me."

"You wouldn't understand, Housecarl. You ain't a Nord."

"I've been all across Tamriel. I've seen plenty of things just as outlandish as this. I'd advise you all to trust in the strength of your sword arm over tales and legends."

Milos, again, helped me up. He'd probably noticed I the bruises I'd gotten. "Whatever it was, we should report to the Jarl that the Dragon is dead. _That_ is the main concern."

The guards nodded and made their way back to Whiterun, Irileth leading them, with Milos and I hanging in the back. My right leg was hurting every time I used it to walk, and I had to grab my sword out of Mirmulnir's skull. Milos made me put an arm around his shoulders, and then he put his closest hand on the other side of my waist to help me walk.

For once, we actually didn't have anything to say to each other. I was still trying to wrap my head around what had happened. A word had come into my head after that orange thing came after me, but it was just "force", just like the word that had glowed on the wall we'd found in Bleak Falls Barrow.

I was sure Milos wanted to ask me something, but despite my silence, he said nothing. I was hoping that something—anything—would break the silence.

"Hey! You two!"

_Thank the Divines,_ I thought with relief. _I think they're spoiling me now._

A Nord man was running up to us, at near full speed. He was wearing fur armour (to show off his muscular chest, no doubt), had a greatsword on his back, and looked a lot like many of the Nords in Skyrim. Blonde hair, but only the stubble of a beard, and blue eyes.

"What?" Milos asked, eyeing the Nord suspiciously.

"I'm sorry, but I've been trying to find you two for a few hours!" He didn't appear out of breath for running all the way from Whiterun, which I found a bit odd, but it didn't irk me. "Aela, one of my shield-sisters, told me of an Argonian and an Imperial traveling together who helped her and some of my shield-siblings with a giant they had been contracted to take down." He smiled at us. "It takes a lot to get Aela to praise someone's combat abilities, let me tell you that!"

"So?"

The Nord looked slightly embarrassed. "Oh, sorry. I just wanted to welcome you to Whiterun!" He eyed me, and then saw my leg. "Can I help?"

"By all means," I said before Milos could object. "And anyway, thanks for the welcome, but the Dragon already did that."

"I heard from my friends in the guard that there was a Dragon," the Nord admitted, putting my other arm across his shoulders. "What're your names?"

"I'm Taryn Greystone," I said. "This is Milos."

"Hides-His-Heart," Milos corrected. "Milos to my friends."

"Understandable," the Nord said, shrugging. "My name's Hiemdall Jorganson. I'm a Companion of the Jorrvaskr in Whiterun. As is Aela, one of the women fighting the giant. Have you considered joining the Companions? It's honest work."

I chuckled. "Well, we just got into the city, so maybe not quite yet."

Suddenly, the ground started to shake. We fought for our balance, and then heard something.

_**"DOVAHKIIN!"**_

Once the ground stopped shaking, Hiemdall shook his head. "Now, what was that about? The Greybeards calling for the Dragonborn? Is there even a Dragonborn now?"

All I could do was laugh quietly.


	9. Call of the Greybeards

Chapter Eight:

Call of the Greybeards

My leg was feeling better by the time we made it to the stables, and the bruises would wear off, so I thanked both Milos and Hiemdall and walked on my own. But both of them were following me. It wasn't Milos I was very concerned about; it was more Hiemdall.

"Did you need something?" I asked Hiemdall as we made it to the city gates.

"Well, I _am_ heading this way."

"Oh." I cleared my throat. "What are the Companions?"

Hiemdall smiled. "Well, first, where are you from?"

"Cyrodiil."

"Then we're a lot like your Fighter's Guild," he told Milos and I. "We take contracts and do what we're told, and get paid for it. But the Companions are different. We still follow many of the teachings of Ysgramor and his five-hundred Companions, so we're high on tradition. Where the Jorrvaskr is based is no coincidence; Jeek of the River broke off from the Circle of Captains and brought some Companions with him to settle in Skyrim, as Ysgramor ordered. The Jorrvaskr was on a mountain, and the city of Whiterun sprouted around it. We've adapted and learned.""

"That's interesting," I commented. "I really should study on the history of Skyrim sometime. I don't know much about this place."

"Well, I only really know about the Companions. It's what I'm good at, so its what I do." Hiemdall nodded. "Anyway, we're at the Jorrvaskr. I'd better get back before Kodlak notices that I've been gone. He may have a contract for me."

Hiemdall bid us good-bye and sprinted up the steps to the Jorrvaskr before I could thank him for helping me out. I frowned at that.

"The roof of the Jorrvaskr..." Milos was smiling. "It's a Nordic longboat."

I laughed. "That it is! Now, we'd better hurry. I don't think that staring at the roof of that thing is going to get us any closer to the Jarl."

We traveled slowly up the steps to Dragonsreach so my leg wouldn't decide that it didn't feel like working, but we continued at our usual pace once we were crossing the bridge to the massive double-doors.

"Good. You're finally here," Proventus Avenicci said as we entered. "The Jarl's been waiting for you."

We followed Proventus up the steps to the Jarl's throne, where the Jarl was in a heated discussion with a man with a greatsword strapped to his back. When the Jarl saw us, he ended his discussion with the man, and the man forced himself to bow and walk away.

"So what happened at the watchtower?" the Jarl asked. "Was the Dragon there?"

_Obviously, Irileth hasn't arrived yet... _

"The watchtower was destroyed," Milos told the Jarl promptly, "but we killed the Dragon."

"I knew I could count on Irileth!" the Jarl said, a smile at his lips. "But there must be more to it than that."

I cleared my throat hesitantly. "Erm... Turns out I may be something called 'Dragonborn'."

The Jarl leaned forward, his curiosity piqued. "Dragonborn?" he repeated slowly. "What do you know about the Dragonborn?"

"That's just what the men called me."

The Jarl shook his head. "Not just the men. The Greybeards seem to think the same thing."

_Greybeards? Hiemdall mentioned them._ "The Greybeards? Who are they?"

"Masters of the Way of the Voice," the Jarl answered readily. "They live in seclusion high on the slopes of the Throat of the World."

"What do the Greybeards want with Taryn?" Milos asked, though it seemed more like a demand.

"The Dragonborn is said to be uniquely gifted in the Voice—the ability to focus your vital essence into a Thu'um, or Shout." Balgruuf looked at me. "If you really are Dragonborn, they can teach you how to use your gift."

"Didn't you hear the thundering sound as you returned to Whiterun?" the man who had been conversing with the Jarl asked. "That was the voice of the Greybeards, summoning you to High Hrothgar! This hasn't happened in... centuries, at least. Not since Tiber Septim himself was summoned when he was still Talos of Atmora!"

"Hrongar, calm yourself!" Proventus interjected. "What does any of this Nord nonsense have to do with our friend here? Capable as she may be, I don't see any signs of her being this, what, 'Dragonborn'."

"Nord nonsense?" Hrongar thundered. "Why you puffed-up, ignorant...! These are our sacred traditions that go back to the founding of the First Empire!"

"Hrongar, don't be so hard on Avenicci," Balgruuf said.

"I meant no disrespect, of course," Proventus added.

_Kiss-ass,_ I thought with a frown. It looked like Milos was thinking the same.

"It's just that... what do these Greybeards want with her?" Proventus continued, ignoring the look I was giving him.

"That's the Greybeards' business, not ours," Balgruuf told Proventus. He looked at Milos and I again. "Whatever happened when you killed that Dragon, it revealed something in you, and the Greybeards heard it. If they think you're Dragonborn, who are we to argue? You'd better get up to High Hrothgar immediately. There's no refusing the summons of the Greybeards. It's a tremendous honor." He smiled. "I envy you, you know. To climb the seven-thousand steps again... I made the pilgrimage once, did you know that?"

"_Seven-thousand steps?_" I exclaimed, unable to contain my surprise.

The Jarl continued on, as if I hadn't interrupted him. "High Hrothgar is a peaceful place. Very... disconnected from the troubles of this world. I wonder that the Greybeards even notice what's going on down here. They haven't seemed to care before. No matter. Go to High Hrothgar. Learn what the Greybeards can teach you."

I sighed, suddenly wishing I was facing a wall that I could repeatedly hit my head against. Milos smiled at me, pitifully.

"Before you leave..." the Jarl said, "by my right as Jarl, I name you both Thanes of Whiterun. It's the greatest honor that's within my power to grant. I assign you Lydia as a personal Housecarl. She will stay here, until you decide to purchase a home in this city, then she will be waiting for you there, unless you so choose to bring her with you on your journeys. I'll also notify my guards of your new title. We are honored to have you both as Thanes of our city."

We thanked the Jarl and left almost immediately. Days ago, I had planned to flee to Skyrim and keep a low profile. It seemed that I was doing anything but. _I'm leaving a trail even the stupidest of mudcrabs could find,_ I thought miserably. _Thane of Whiterun... Not on my "to-do" list of this lifetime._

Milos opened the doors to Dragonsreach, and we were standing outside, taking in the scenery of the city, just for a breath of fresh air.

"Well, if getting titles was this easy in Black Marsh, I'd be the damn King by now," Milos remarked. "But I can settle with Thane of Whiterun."

I shivered as I leaned against the railing of the bridge. I hated titles. Titles made people turn into brown-nosers like Proventus Avenicci. They hurt people more than help them. I'd hated the Count of Anvil for flaunting his wealth every holiday and weekend. Back when the Hero of Kvatch was alive, Countess Umbranox had been fair with the people of County Anvil. When I was young, I had wished desperately that her lessons would suddenly rub-off onto the Count, but it was a child's wish, and nothing more.

"Hey, is that Hiemdall?"

I looked at the front of the bridge. Hiemdall was approaching us, a bag on his back along with his greatsword.

"I hate to bother you again," he said, "but I was hoping I could come with you. Before you ask, I already told you I have friends in the guard, and word travels faster than a wildfire around here. You're going up the seven-thousand steps to High Hrothgar. I haven't made the Pilgrimage yet, and I want to come. Better to travel in company, right?"

He seemed pretty set in the decision to join us. I looked at Milos, who in turn, look at me. "Fine," I told him. "But does your leader—Kodlak, was it? —know you're coming with us, or even going anywhere?"

His eyes widened. "Oh crap! I forgot to tell him, I was so focused on hurrying to I could catch you before you left!"

"Well, you'd better go tell him—."

"He'll want to meet you both, to make sure I'm in good company, you see," Hiemdall interrupted. "He's like a father to all of us, so he usually wants to know we're taken care of."

"Erm... okay?"

"C'mon! I'll take you to him!" Hiemdall grabbed my wrist and started to drag me there. I felt like he was some sort of an energetic little puppy, and Milos and I would be more than exhausted each night with him around. Still, I figured it'd be nice to have an extra weapon on our side. "He's just in the Jorrvaskr."

We climbed the steps to the upside-down longboat, and Hiemdall opened a door inside. It was spacious, with a fireplace in the centre and a table almost completely surrounding it. I recognized Aela, who had been fighting the giant, and the other two who had been with her.

I didn't know why, but I suddenly felt extremely sick.

Hiemdall led us to the Jorrvaskr's right and down some steps into the lower-level. I noticed that Aela, the man who'd been fighting the giant, and another man who resembled the first, were following us curiously. I was starting to feel a little sicker, but I shook my head and brushed it off.

Milos, however, noticed. I sometimes had to curse how good he was at noticing that something was wrong with me.

"Hiemdall, stop for a moment," he said to the young Nord. "Taryn, are you okay?"

I nodded, ignoring my burning forehead. "Yep. Totally fine. Let's go."

"Yeah, that was convincing. So much for being a merchant later in life," Milos rumbled. "Here; sit on this bench. You look a little pale."

"Milos, I'm _fine_!" I argued. "You don't have to baby me!"

"I wouldn't have to if you would just admit that you're not well and need a rest." Milos forced me to sit on a bench in front of a table, laden with food. He put his scaly hand on my forehead, and then examined my face by grabbing my jaw and turning my head. "Cough," he ordered when my head was turned to the side.

"I don't see how that'll—."

"Cough," Milos repeated, forcefully this time.

I frowned and coughed for him, into the nook of my elbow for hygenical reasons. "How was that?"

Milos was frowning as much as his lizard head would allow. "Not good. After this, we'll stop at the inn. We're not traveling if you're not feeling well."

"I said I'm _fine_, Milos." I stood up a bit too fast and felt a bit dizzy, but I ignored it so I wouldn't hear any smart remarks from Milos. "Let's just get this over with."

I coughed into my elbow again as we walked down the hall. And then again. And again. I wasn't forcing it. If anything, I was trying to force it back.

_Argh! Why am I getting sick? I'm perfectly healthy! This makes absolutely—_absolutely_—no—!_

This time, I coughed, and it felt like I was hacking out a lung. When I brought my elbow away from my mouth, I saw blood.

_Oh shit._

Milos was the first to grab me before I fell flat on my face. I kept coughing, and the blood wasn't stopping. I wasn't exactly sure what was happening, in my body, or out. Milos was yelling something to Hiemdall, who in turn was yelling at Aela. That was all I was capable of understanding, at the moment.

I suddenly felt so weak that I had to close my eyes. Milos had used one of his clawed fingers to keep them open, but they hurt a lot. I remembered telling Milos to let me sleep, and then I couldn't see a thing.


	10. To High Hrothgar

Chapter Nine:

To High Hrothgar

I guess I woke up several hours later. There was no more sunlight outside, anyway. My head was spinning (not as much as before), and my throat hurt, but I was feeling better. I didn't feel like I was burning up, anyway.

_Ugh,_ I thought, frowning, _did I just have an allergic reaction to something? Mead? No, a few hours too late. Am I allergic to whatever that orange thing was? Can't be. It was more like a spirit—a soul. I'm pretty sure no one's ever been allergic to souls. Not that anyone's ever absorbed one, anyway. Was that even an allergic reaction? I was coughing up blood, for Talos' sake!_

I put my thumb and forefinger on each of my eyes and took in a long gulp of air, slowly though. I rubbed them then, as I was trying to think. Firstly, I wasn't at the inn. I was still in Jorrvaskr. I remembered its musky smell. I was also lying in a large bed with a red quilt overtop of me, in a private room. Someone else's room.

I sat up and looked at the nightstand beside the bed. There was a tankard that had water in it. I guessed that they didn't have normal glasses. Hoping and praying it was for me, I downed the water in a matter of seconds and placed the tankard back on the nightstand.

"Looks like I was right in getting you something to drink."

I turned towards the doorway, suddenly on edge. An old man—well, not really old, more like aged. He wasn't _that_ old—was standing in the doorway. He was wearing a type of armour that I hadn't seen before that vaguely resembled Imperial armour, but it wasn't red or brown, but silver and black. The man himself had white hair and a full white beard, and his eyes were a silver-white. He had a tattoo on the right side of his face, on his cheek, but it hadn't withered with age. His presence was commanding but calm. I could tell almost immediately that this man was a leader.

"My name is Kodlak Whitemane," the man said as he strode towards the bed. "I am the Harbinger of the Companions. Are you feeling all right?"

I nodded slowly. "I am... Thank-you, Kodlak. Where am I?"

"You're in my room, currently," he answered, sitting on my side of the bed, on the edge. "But you're still in the Jorrvaskr. You gave your friend quite a fright, young lady."

_Milos!_ "Is Milos all right?" I asked, panicked.

"He's fine," Kodlak assured me, smiling. "Just worried about you. Do you know what happened?"

I furrowed my brow. "I started coughing blood after I wasn't feeling good."

"I heard you argue with Milos that you were fine." Kodlak's smile broadened.

I frowned at his teasing. "I wasn't feeling good, but I didn't want to admit it. I rarely ever get sick. I'm very good at resisting some diseases, because I've built up immunities over the years."

He nodded. "From what I gathered, it was a serious case of infection inside of your body from wounds that weren't properly healed, and as a result of over-exerting your body—by fighting a _Dragon_, no less—you collapsed from it. The blood was just a sign. I gave you some medicine I usually give to my fellow Companions whenever the same happens to them. You'll be fine, but you'll need to heal yourself more properly on the battlefield next time."

It made sense, but I was good at healing. I doubted that I could get such a simple thing wrong, but perhaps I had overlooked something in my confidence and caused it myself. I nodded at Kodlak's words in understanding.

"Thank-you, Kodlak," I said again. "How can I repay you?"

"First, you can tell me your name. I don't want to call you, 'You' if we should see each other again."

"Oh! Sorry!" I exclaimed. I grasped Kodlak's hand, which he had offered, and shook it as firmly as I could without seeming rude. "My name's Taryn. Taryn Greystone."

"That name resembles a Nord's name," Kodlak remarked. "Your last name, I mean."

"Well, it sounded nice at the time, so I took it." I shrugged. "What can you do? I was a child who liked to make names. Sue me."

Kodlak smiled. "The second thing you can do is take Hiemdall with you. I've given my permission for him to go. He's a true Nord, who wishes to take a Pilgrimage. I will not deny such a thing to anyone."

"I can definitely do that," I replied. "It'll be nice to have another blade with us. I mean, I'm not sure how long this'll take, but he's welcome all the same."

"Thank-you, Taryn." Kodlak stood. "Your friend Milos went to sell some things before the shops closed. He's probably with Hiemdall upstairs right now. I think you're well enough to start your journey."

I was out of the bed in an instant, grabbing my weapons that had been placed beside it and equipping them in their respective places. Kodlak was smiling at me in his chair by the door outside the room.

"Ah, to have that energy again..." I heard him remark.

"Thank-you, Kodlak!" I yelled back as I ran down the hall.

When I got to the top of the stairs in the Jorrvaskr, Milos and Hiemdall were having a few meads together, as was made evident by the few empty tankards on the table.

"Taryn!" Hiemdall exclaimed. "Why don't you join us?"

Milos stood up and strode towards me, stopping only a few inches away so he could grab my jaw and turn my head around again.

"Milos, I'm _fine_!" I said, brushing him off. "Kodlak helped me out. Don't worry; I'm healthy now."

Milos breathed a sigh of relief and hugged me. I hugged him back, just for good measure. "Listen to me next time, okay?"

I nodded and we released each other. Hiemdall was smiling at us.

"You like Imperials then, eh Milos?"

"Apparently so. I have one who's interested back in Riverwood," Milos quipped. I was surprised. Milos had acted coldly to Hiemdall before, but now he was being friendly. Then again, maybe it was the mead.

"Kodlak said I'm fine, so we can get going even now." I nodded to Hiemdall. "You included. You're still packed?"

"Of course I am!" Hiemdall had his pack on his back, and pointed at it to let me know. "We leave now, then?"

"Yep. Let's get moving!"

We exited the Jorrvaskr, with none of the other Companions in sight. Perhaps they were given a contract. But I supposed that Hiemdall had already said his good-byes to his fellows. The sun was hours past dusk, but we didn't mind. I guessed that Milos and Hiemdall were well-rested as well, and I could probably hire a wagon for us with what money I had.

We were at the stables in no time. Milos had returned my pack to me long before that, lighter than it had been hours ago. I was grateful for that, at least. We found a capable wagon that would fit us all with a man who probably did night-runs for a living, when people couldn't go in the daylight.

"Where's the closest place to the Throat of the World?" I asked Hiemdall as we approached the man.

"Ivarstead, I suppose," Hiemdall replied. "Helgen too, but I guess it's not really an option..."

I asked the driver to take us to Ivarstead. He had said that he didn't go there often, so I offered him twenty septims. He changed his tune quickly.

We climbed into the back of the wagon, and we were off. I was memorizing the countryside as we went, so if we couldn't get a wagon, we would at least know where we were going.

"So what's the story with you two?" Hiemdall asked as he leaned against the wagon and crossed his arms. "An Argonian and an Imperial traveling together should have some sort of interesting beginning, shouldn't it?"

"Well, Milos was an escaped prisoner, and I was to be his executioner," I lied casually, wondering if Hiemdall would buy it. "That was two years ago. He'd begged me, and asked if there was _anything_ he could do to survive." I grinned as I realized Hiemdall _was_ buying it. "So, I took him into my room—."

"I was a slave and Taryn bought me when we were seven, using the money that the Madame from the orphanage had given her for her debts to settle. Instead, she used the hag's money to buy me as I was about to die," Milos interrupted swiftly in an annoyed monotone.

Hiemdall tilted his head, as if he was trying to guess which one of our stories was the real one. "So, you were a slave...?"

"Not a sex slave like Taryn's spewing," Milos explained. "I was just a slave."

Hiemdall was laughing. Milos was not amused, but I knew that he'd come around eventually. I think I heard the driver snickering too.

We all rested our eyes for the next few hours, until the driver woke us up. He'd said that something was in the bushes, and he wasn't going to lose another cart because of a bear. I sighed and grabbed my bow, leaving the rest of my supplies in the wagon and telling the driver not to leave without us, since Milos and Hiemdall were coming with me.

Hiemdall, with his greatsword out, had a completely different demeanor about him. Instead of the slightly naїve, puppy-like Hiemdall, he was showing his Companion warrior side.

After a few minutes of searching, we gave up and started to head back to the wagon. _It was probably a damned bunny,_ I thought. _It can't have been anything else. This darkness wouldn't even hide a bear—._

Movement behind us. I whirled around and drew an arrow, nocking it into my bow, aiming at what I had heard. The sound was simply too loud for a rabbit.

A man, cloaked in black with red armour that looked light, ran at us with twin daggers unsheathed. He was a Dark Elf, and his hood was up so I couldn't see his eyes, but his expression told me all I needed to know. He was here for blood.

I loosed the arrow. He dodged it nimbly, surprising me, but Milos and Hiemdall weren't impressed. As if they'd fought together for years, they attacked in perfect synchronization, but the Dark Elf leapt past their blows and continued on to me.

"The Night Mother calls for your blood, Taryn Greystone!" he roared. "May the Void take your soul!"

I loosed another arrow, and this time he couldn't dodge. It slammed into his shoulder while Milos' foot connected with his back. The Dark Elf hit the ground on his stomach, Milos' and Hiemdall's blade cris-crossed above his neck. I kicked away the Dark Elf's daggers and aimed an arrow at his head.

"Who sent you?" I demanded.

The Dark Elf smiled at me. "A friend, Taryn Greystone."

"You'll have to be a bit more specific than that, assassin!" I growled.

"Not just any assassin," Milos rumbled. "A Dark Brotherhood assassin. Someone really wants you dead, Taryn. These guys rarely fail these days."

"And I've never failed a mission until now," the assassin boasted. "Strange. I could have killed you all easily, but, somehow, you've bested me."

"Well, I like to call it luck," I told him. "Who sent you?"

The assassin hesitated. "I've no contract of silence with him," he finally said. "His name is Arnand Bienne. He wanted me to ask you if the name rang a bell for you, Taryn Greystone."

I froze, my blood running cold in my veins. My knuckles were white as I tightened my grip on the bow. The assassin grinned as he saw my reaction.

"So, it seems to ring many bells." He snickered. "Then you know why I was sent after you."

Milos looked at me with confidence. "We can end him now, Taryn. Just say the word."

"It won't matter if I die," the assassin drawled on. "Another will take my place, and I will take mine at the side of Sithis!"

I crouched and looked the Dark Elf in his blood-red eyes, now that his hood wasn't covering them. "Do you know where Arnand is?" I asked him.

"No. The Night Mother simply got the request, and as her Listener, I carried out her orders." The assassin grinned. "Disappointed?"

"Not at all. If he thinks you've failed, then he'll either give up on me, or try to find me."

"So you're going to kill me then?"

After a few seconds, I shook my head. "No."

"I will attempt to kill you until I succeed or I am dead."

"I'll tell you what; come with us for a while. I think I'll need another blade along with us." I stood up. "I'm sparing your life, so you owe me that debt. Once all this is over—whatever I'm getting myself into—I will release you from your debt, and you can try to kill me again."

The Dark Elf was smiling. "You aren't worried I'll slit your throat in the night? Or stab you in the back while it's turned?"

"Not while these two massive mountains of muscle are with me," I quipped, pointing at Hiemdall and Milos, with the latter rolling his eyes.

He broadened his smile. "Very well, Taryn Greystone. I accept. I will serve you as faithfully as I do the Night Mother until you release me from my debt, once it is repaid. My brothers and sisters will also aid you, should you require their assistance."

I nodded to Hiemdall and Milos, and they removed their blades. I offered my hand to the Dark Elf.

"You know my name, so its only fair you tell me yours," I said.

"I am Aldren Ebor," the assassin replied, taking my hand to get to his feet, "Listener for the Dark Brotherhood."

Needless to say, when we got back to the wagon, the driver was surprised that we'd picked up a new friend... if Aldren could even be called that. He was more of an ally.

We continued on our journey to Ivarstead, resting our eyes once more, despite how Aldren said he was staying up (I hoped that he wouldn't try to slit Hiemdall or Milos' throats...).

My fears, however, were unfounded. We reached Ivarstead by the next morning, just before the dawn, and grabbed our things off the wagon, bidding the driver a good-bye.

I craned my neck to gaze at the mountain called the "Throat of the World". It was larger than even the White Gold Tower in Cyrodiil!

"So then, what are we doing here?" Aldren asked, ensuring that his hood covered his eyes. "Are you trying to complete a Pilgrimage?"

"I am," Hiemdall admitted. "But these two are going to see the Greybeards."

Aldren's curiosity was piqued. "Greybeards? This wouldn't have anything to do with the Greybeards' summons, would it? You could hear that all over Skyrim!"

I laughed weakly. "W-Well... it may have something to do with that. We're not quite sure yet. This journey is more to... _confirm_ something."

Aldren shrugged and said nothing more. At least he was a quiet one. He would probably get annoyed with the three of us soon enough.

I looked down at a step on the mountain and sighed. "_Seven-thousand_ bloody _steps_..." I grumbled. "Well, we'll start with _one_."


	11. Reaching the Monastery

Chapter Ten:

Reaching the Monastery

We'd only traveled up a few steps before Hiemdall stopped us, so he could examine an etched tablet. Apparently, it was part of his Pilgrimage.

_"Before the birth of men,"_ Hiemdall read, _"the Dragons ruled all of Mundus; Their word was the Voice, and they spoke only for True Needs; For the Voice could blot out the sky and flood the land."_

"So no pressure then?" I grumbled, mostly to myself.

We continued on a few minutes later, after Hiemdall was done praying to the Nine—or the Eight, as I wasn't sure what his views were—and climbed higher. The Throat of the World reminded me of when I'd scaled the Jerall Mountains to evade the Thalmor, perhaps around a week before.

Could it have really been a week? It felt longer. It _had_ to be longer! A week to find Milos, recruit a Companion and assassin, fight a Dragon, learn I could be a Dragonborn, and become a Thane to a city I'd only ever passed through? It felt surreal, as if I was detached and watching myself from afar.

Again, we stopped at an etched tablet. We'd climbed higher, and now I could look down at the village of Ivarstead without anyone noticing I was peering at their lives.

Hiemdall read the tablet again. _"Men were born and spread over the face of Mundus; The Dragons presided over the crawling masses; Men were weak then, and had no Voice."_

"And men complain that women talk too much..." I said aloud. "Well, at least we know that men were silent at some point. That's a relief."

Milos smiled while Aldren grumbled something unintelligible. Hiemdall politely ignored us while he prayed again

"Taryn, who's Arnand Bienne?" Milos asked suddenly.

Gods, how I hated that name. And having just realized that Milos wouldn't recognize it made me groan a bit inside.

"A bastard," I growled. "Nothing more, but probably even less."

Milos' eyes narrowed. "And why would he send a Dark Brotherhood assassin after you?" I didn't answer immediately, so Milos decided to prompt me. "Does it have to do with why you're in Skyrim?"

I was silent, unwilling to talk to my best friend about it. Not because I was ashamed, but because I was angry—pissed, even furious. I wouldn't be able to get the words out fast enough.

Instead, I just started up the steps again, promptly ignoring Milos' reptilian eyes. I hoped that he wouldn't try to get me to talk about it again. Not while the wounds were still fresh.

We reached another tablet, so Hiemdall read again. _"The fledgling spirits of men were strong in Old Times; Unafraid to war with Dragons and their Voices; But the Dragons only shouted them down and broke their hearts."_

Aldren was sharpening his twin daggers this time. He'd grabbed them before we'd gotten on the wagon. Their blades were green while the hilts were gold. I'd seen such a thing only once before, back in Anvil; they were glass weapons. Strong weapons, but I didn't trust them. I was always petrified that they'd break and glass would get stuck in my eye. Thanks to the guard captain back in Anvil, who instilled those fears into me.

We all decided to rest after the next two tablets, as hours had already passed. Most of it in a resounding silence. I couldn't see Ivarstead any longer, and the snow we were slogging through was freezing me. I guessed that Milos didn't like the snow, either, since he was watching his feet and treading carefully on as many rocks he could find.

_"Kyne called on Paarthurnax, who pitied man; Together they taught Men to use the Voice; Then Dragon war raged, Dragon against Tongue."_

I wondered who Paarthurnax was. A man who knew the Voice? But it had said that no men knew it, and it was extremely unlikely that a Dragon would turn against its own kind. But if it _was_ a Dragon, what would have caused it to join men? But we left the tablet quickly, because there was a woman already there, praying, and we didn't want to disturb her.

We were all tired, cold, and ready to rest, but we were close to the fifth emblem. Milos was crossing under an overhanging rock to avoid some of the snowflakes when we heard a guttural growl.

We stopped, listening to its echo. "What was that?" I wondered aloud for all of us.

I grabbed my bow while everyone else got their respective weapons out. There was another growl, but it felt like it was coming from—.

"Look out!" Milos tackled me to the ground as a white mass leapt from the overhanging rock. Where I had been standing, its massive hands slammed.

It had three eyes and was covered from head-to-toe in white fur. It nostrils were only a few inches from its mouth on its flat face, and its massive, fanged teeth jutted violently from its mouth, so it couldn't even close its maw properly. Not that it seemed to matter to the creature.

"Frost troll!" Aldren yelled.

Hiemdall brought his greatsword around to cut its head off, but the troll stopped his blade with its unnaturally large hands. Aldren jumped onto Hiemdall's shoulder and leaped overtop of the troll. He buried his twin daggers in its back as he fell back to the ground. The troll roared and swiped thick, trunk-like arms around, launching Hiemdall away and forcing Aldren to leap backwards.

Milos got off of me, jumping onto a rock and off of it. He buried the tip of his greatsword into the frost troll's shoulder and through to its side, through its ribs and many of its organs. It gurgled blood and attempted to grab Milos with its good arm, but Hiemdall, now recovered, brought his greatsword down in a chopping motion into the beast's face.

Aldren grabbed his daggers from the frost troll's back before it fell in a heap on its back in the now crimson snow. We stared at its corpse for a while before the three men cleaned their weapons of troll blood and sheathed them.

"Well, I feel particularly useless," I said, getting to my feet and wiping cold masses of frost from my back.

"Not really," Milos replied. "I mean, it liked you a lot."

"I'm flattered." I sighed. "Let's get moving. I'm freezing my ass off up here."

"Luckily, the next emblem is just there," Aldren observed, pointing to the side of the overhanging rock.

I could've hugged the assassin.

_"Man prevailed, shouting Alduin out of the world; Proving for all that their Voice too was strong; Although their sacrifices were many-fold."_

"I just thought I'd say that this tale is slightly depressing," I told Hiemdall.

"How?" he asked.

"Man gets their asses kicked and then they kick ass in return. Why can't we all just hold hands and get along?"

"I think that frost troll wanted to hold hands with you," Milos pointed-out.

I groaned and sat down in the snow. "Well, we're here, so let's just take some time to eat and... do something."

"Other than listen to tablets that talk about Shouting and the Voice to remind you why we're here."

"Thanks."

"Anytime."

Aldren sat down across from me. "I, for one, must admit that I am very interested in this business of yours. Why _are_ you here, Greystone?"

"It's Taryn," I corrected, "and we're here on the off-chance that I actually might be Dragonborn."

"So you're not sure?" the assassin prodded.

I shrugged. "That's what the guards called me."

"Haven't you tried Shouting before?"

"No!" I snapped. "If I did, we would know if I was a Dragonborn, now wouldn't we? I don't want to look like a fool and shout something, only to have only my own voice come out!"

"There have been people more foolish than an Imperial traveling with a lizard."

Milos sat beside me, growling deep in his throat in distaste. "Watch your tongue, Elf!"

Aldren shrugged, undaunted by Milos. If I were in his position and had never met Milos, I probably would have listened to Milos for fear of my arms leaving their sockets. I could almost swear that Milos was supposed to be born an Orc.

I searched through my pack and grabbed a loaf of bread, then cut it into pieces with a dagger and handed it out. We mostly ate in silence, until I found some Honningbrew Mead in my bag.

"Seriously?" I asked, glaring at Milos.

"Oh, great! Pass that over here—." Milos caught my glare. "What's with that look?"

I took in a breath. "Why only _one_ bottle?"

I guess that Milos thought it was something considerably more serious. He revealed a toothy grin and grabbed the bottle, popping the cork and taking a swig of the liquid.

"I have a few more in my pack," he admitted, passing the mead to Hiemdall, who drank just as merrily as Milos. "You seem to like it a lot more than you thought, Taryn."

"I can't help it. Maybe its because I'm an adult now."

"Or because you're part Nord," Aldren quipped before downing the mead.

I snorted and drank when Aldren passed the bottle to me. "Not like I'd know, anyway."

"You're such a downer!" Milos exclaimed. "C'mon! Be happy with life!"

I rolled my eyes, guessing that it was the mead talking. Once we'd rested and ate (and drank) we continued up the mountain, intent on reaching the monastery before sundown. I was sure it was nearly noon, as it was.

_"With roaring Tongues, the Sky-Children conquer; Founding the First Empire with Sword and Voice; Whilst the Dragons withdrew from this world."_

At least I was getting a history lesson along with it. The Madame at the orphanage was a complete moron who refused to teach us anything, for fear we would actually turn out smarter than she. Hag.

Hiemdall knelt at the next tablet. _"The Tongues at Red Mountain went away humbled; Jurgen Windcaller began His Seven Year Meditation; To understand how Strong Voices could fail."_

Jurgen's name was new to me, but I was sure that the Greybeards would know of him. I looked up on the mountainside while Hiemdall was praying and saw several claw marks on the side of the mountain, definitely not recent. Perhaps a Dragon had found its way to the Throat of the World? Surely the Greybeards could handle it. They'd called me from up in the mountain, for heaven's sake!

We continued on to the eighth of the etched tablets. Hiemdall had to take in a few breaths before he spoke it. _"Jurgen Windcaller chose silence and returned; The seventeen disputants could not shout Him down; Jurgen the Calm built His home on the Throat of the World."_

"Well, that'd explain it then," I commented. "I guess he was a Greybeard. I wonder if these guys really do have grey beards...?"

We found the ninth not much farther away, but we still had to climb the blasted steps. I had already lost count as to how many had already suffered through.

_"For years all silent, the Greybeards spoke one name; Tiber Septim, stripling then, was summoned to Hrothgar; They blessed and named him Dovahkiin."_

"Dovahkiin...?" Milos tapped his snout. "Must mean Dragonborn, or I would think so, at least."

"Only one last tablet!" Hiemdall exclaimed. "I'm looking forward to the end of this Pilgrimage!"

"Well, lucky you. You don't have to talk with the Greybeards," I huffed.

"Oh, I plan on entering with you," Hiemdall explained with a grin. "They don't much like visitors and don't talk, but I'm sure that, since I've traveled with the potential Dragonborn, they'll let me in."

I rolled my eyes, and we proceeded. We went a long time without finding the other tablet, mostly finding only stairs (that I glared at). And then we turned a corner, and found the monastery of High Hrothgar. The double spiraling staircases looked welcoming, despite the looming presence of the monastery, and from where I was standing, I could see the summit of the Throat of the World.

Hiemdall read the last tablet, and the relief was evident in his voice. _"The Voice is worship; Follow the Inner path; Speak only in True Need."_

"So the moral of the story is not to use the Voice unless you get pissed," Milos said, a smile tugging at his reptilian lips.

"Brilliant. I get pissed all the time," I replied, rubbing my hands on my arms. "Let's just get inside. I'm freezing."

I didn't hear any arguments. We climbed the last of the stairs and pushed open the door on the right of the staircases, finally entering High Hrothgar, the lair of the Greybeards.


	12. The Way of the Voice

Chapter Eleven:

The Way of the Voice

The room we entered was large, made of the stone of the mountain, had torches lining its walls, but the largest amount of light came from the hole in the roof. two stairways were at the opposite end of the room, leading further into the Greybeards' dwelling.

Every step we took echoed inside, no doubt letting the Greybeards know of our presence. Indeed, descending the staircase on our left was one of these mysterious monks, his hood drawn over his head, grey robes with silver trim flowing behind him, and his hands clasped together. And his beard was grey, with a tie near its bottom, at least making it look orderly.

"So..." he said, his voice booming through the monastery, but not at all in a threatening way, "a Dragonborn appears, at this moment in the turning of the age."

I felt defensive, despite how non-threatening the Greybeard seemed, and steeled myself. I wanted answers. I just hoped that I wouldn't get the ones I didn't want.

"You call me Dragonborn," I stated. "What does that mean?"

I noticed three other Greybeards enter the room, each dressed in what the one standing before me was wearing, and each had a grey beard. They _did_ live up to their name. These monks were silent as they surrounded us in a diamond formation, and I realized then that we had actually crossed to the centre of the room, where the last light from the sun was shining down on us through the hole in the roof.

"First, let us see if you truly are Dragonborn," the Greybeard said, deflecting my question. "Let us taste of your voice."

"How?"

The Greybeard held out his hand, but not for me to take. "Shout," he said simply.

_Shout? Shout what? Shout where? _I was starting to panic, unsure if I would simply make a fool of myself in front of these monks that we had traveled seven-thousand steps to see. I felt like the one who was truly the Dragonborn would come in through the doors behind us at any given moment, and I'd be free of this.

I was suddenly reminded of the word that had came to me when I killed that Dragon; the word Milos and I had found on the wall in Bleak Falls Barrow that had glowed. "Force".

I looked at a corner of the room, just-in-case I did manage to "Shout" so I wouldn't unintentionally hurt anyone. I realized the Greybeards were waiting patiently, and Milos and company had retreated to a wall behind the Greybeard facing the first one and I, probably for their own safety.

_Force,_ I thought relentlessly. _How are you going to Shout, Taryn? Just yell "force"! C'mon! "Force"! "Force"! "Fus"!_

Before I could stop myself, knowing that I had somehow thought the wrong word (though I honestly had no idea why such gibberish had appeared in my head), I yelled it. I shouted it as loudly as I could, using space in my lungs that I hadn't even known existed.

_**"Fus!"**_ It ripped from my throat and into the corner I had been looking at, a blue aura of power charging without any sign of stopping until it smashed into the corner, breaking many of the stones and evaporating into thin air. The Shout had even caught the Greybeard we'd spoken to slightly, and he staggered back, though he didn't appear wounded.

My hand shot to my mouth to cover the wide, abyssal hole it had made itself into, due to my jaw dropping when I saw the stones break. My eyes probably looked about ready to pop out of my head just as well.

"Dragonborn," the Greybeard acknowledged, wiping some dirt from the arm of his robe that had been caught in my Shout (no doubt from the dust that the Shout had brought up). "It _is_ you. Welcome to High Hrothgar. I am Master Arngeir. I speak for the Greybeards. Now tell me, Dragonborn, why have you come here?"

I lowered my hand from my mouth, still in utter shock. "I-I..." I gulped, shaking a bit. "I want to find out what it means to be Dragonborn."

"We are here to guide you in that pursuit," Arngeir replied, smiling slightly, "just as the Greybeards have sought to guide those of the Dragon Blood that came before you."

"I'm not the only Dragonborn?"

Arngeir looked me dead in the eye, knowingly. "You are not the first. There have been many of the Dragon Blood since Akatosh first bestowed that gift upon mortalkind. Whether you are the only Dragonborn of this age... that is not ours to know. You are the only one that has been revealed thus far. That is all I can say."

I hesitated as I thought of my next question. I could feel the rest of the Greybeards' eyes on me, intent with something. Or perhaps I was simply reminded of how the Madame had always had eyes on me when I was younger.

"Then, who are you?" I asked. "What is this place?"

"We are the Greybeards," Arngeir answered simply, "followers of the Way of the Voice. You stand in High Hrothgar, on the slopes of Kynareth's sacred mountain. Here we commune with the voice of the sky, and strive to achieve balance between our inner and outer selves."

"I..." I gulped again, trying to shake off the nervousness. "I'm answering your summons, Master Arngeir."

Arngeir put a hand gently on my shoulder, as if he was trying to help me to calm myself. "We are honored to welcome a Dragonborn to High Hrothgar. We will do our best to teach you how to use your gift in fulfillment of you destiny."

_Destiny? Oh crap..._ "What _is_ my destiny?"

"That is for you to discover." I felt myself sigh in relief. "We can show you the Way, but not the destination."

I looked down at my feet while fidgeting with my hands. "I'm ready to learn," I mumbled, not entirely sure of my words.

"You have shown that you are Dragonborn. You have the inborn gift. But do you have the discipline and temperament to follow the path laid out for you? That remains to be seen." Arngeir removed his hand from my shoulder and stepped back to complete the diamond that the other Greybeards had begun. At least I wasn't shaking any longer. "Without training, you have already taken the first steps towards projecting your Voice into a Thu'um, a Shout. Now let us see if you are willing and able to learn."

The Greybeards changed positions. Now, two were on my right, diagonally from me, and Arngeir and the remaining Greybeard were at my left, diagonal again.

"When you Shout," Arngeir began, "you speak in the language of Dragons. Thus, your Dragon Blood gives you an inborn ability to learn Words of Power. All Shouts are made up of three Words of Power. As you master each Word, your Shout will become progressively stronger." Arngeir looked to the Greybeard beside him. "Master Einarth will now teach you 'Ro', the second Word in Unrelenting Force." Einarth started to approach me, but Arngeir continued. "Ro means 'Balance' in the Dragon tongue. Combine it with Fus—'Force'—to focus your Thu'um more sharply."

I stepped back a bit as Einarth approached, but then he stopped near where I had been standing. The Greybeard looked at the ground and held out his hand, palm forward.

_**"Ro,"**_ he whispered.

A smaller burst of energy (smaller than mine, anyway) hit the ground, and where it hit, scratches appeared. But they formed together to create a symbol in the language similar to the one Milos and I found in Bleak Falls Barrow. It glowed for a moment, as if it were on fire, and then Einarth stepped back, his head bowed.

I approached the word cautiously. Just like Arngeir had said, it was Ro—Balance. As soon as it registered in my head, the word disappeared, and the stone returned to normal.

"You learn a new word like a master..." Arngeir breathed, unable to hide the awe in his voice, "you truly do have the gift." Arngeir stepped back, but his monk brothers did not. They remained where they stood. "But learning a Word of Power is only the first step... you must unlock its meaning through constant practice in order to use it in a Shout. Well, that is how the rest of us learn Shouts. As Dragonborn, you can absorb a slain Dragon's life force and knowledge directly. As part of your initiation, Master Einarth will allow you to tap into his understanding of 'Ro'."

I felt Milos come up from behind me and stand in front of me defensively. "What the hell do you mean?" he snapped.

"Do not fear, Argonian," Arngeir assured Milos. "The tales have spoken of the time a Dragonborn absorbs the soul of a Dragon. It is always the hardest then. This is a simple exchange of knowledge. The Dragonborn will not be harmed."

Milos looked back at me. I had no idea what to say. I couldn't tell what he was thinking at all, which wasn't settling well with me.

"I'll be fine," I said. "If their intention was to hurt me, they would have gotten rid of you first."

Milos' eyes narrowed, but he complied. I hoped that I wasn't getting myself into something too deep. As long as I'd have the knowledge on how to Shout (so I never would have to again), I would be fine.

Einarth spread his arms as he glowed orange, just like Mirmulnir's soul. I squeezed my eyes shut as a precaution so I wouldn't have to brace myself for impact, but instead of the searing heat I'd felt with Mirmulnir, this felt warm. I knew when it had entered by body, and felt calm. Ro also seemed to be easier for me to understand. Somehow... it fit with Fus. Like tea and a cup.

"Now, let us see how quickly you can master your new Thu'um. Use your Unrelenting Force shout to strike the targets as they appear."

A Greybeard on my right stepped forward and took a breath. _**"Fiik... Lo... Sah!"**_

__Beside me, a spiritual-looking duplicate of the Greybeard appeared. It waited patiently, unmoving. I gulped.

_**"Fus Ro!"**_ I shouted.

The specter was knocked back, and disappeared immediately.

"Well done," Arngeir commented. "Again."

Einarth stepped forward. _**"Fiik... Lo... Sah!"**_

Again, another specter appeared. _**"Fus Ro!"**_

And disappeared just as quickly. I was getting used to the shouting.

"You learn quickly." Arngeir was smiling. "Once more."

The last Greybeard approached and took in a breath. _**"Fiik... Lo... Sah!"**_

_** "Fus Ro!"**_ Again, my Shout destroyed the specter of the Greybeard. _At least,_ I thought, _Arngeir will be happy with that and I can be on my way._

"Impressive," Arngeir said. "Your Thu'um is precise. You show great promise, Dragonborn." I was ready to turn on my heel and get the hell out, but Arngeir's next words stopped me. "We will perform your next trial in the courtyard. Follow Master Borri."

I sighed and followed one of the Greybeards to my right. Arngeir approached my companions, but I didn't hear their exchange of words. Borri led me up the stairs and to large double-doors, to which he entered. I followed after him, and noticed that the other Greybeard and Einarth were following just as well.

The courtyard was large and spacious, covered in snow, with only very few downed stones. The monastery and everything around it, in fact, was in very good condition for how old it was. Borri led me further into the courtyard, where a single gate stood against the cold of the mountain. It wasn't even guarding anything, so I wondered about the point for such a gate. But Borri brought me to two pillars not far in front of the gate and bade me to stand beside one of the pillars.

Arngeir eventually followed us out, but I didn't see a trace of my companions. I wondered if Arngeir had sent them away. I hoped he hadn't.

"We will now see how you learn a completely new Shout," Arngeir explained. "Master Borri will teach you 'Wuld', which means 'Whirlwind'."

_**"Wuld,"**_ Borri murmured.

In the same way that Einarth had just done, a glowing word appeared on the stone ground beside me.

"You must hear the Word within yourself before you can project it into a Thu'um," Arngeir said as I examined it. "Approach Master Borri and he will gift you with his knowledge of 'Wuld'."

Just like with Einarth, the glow that I received from Borri was warm, and instead of linking a new word with one I already knew, it gave me an understanding as to how "Wuld" would work.

"Now we will see how quickly you can master a new Shout," Arngeir explained as he approached the gate. "Master Wulfgar will demonstrate Whirlwind Sprint. Then it will be your turn."

Wulfgar, the remaining Greybeard, stood in-between two pillars across from the gate. Borri approached the side of the gate and watched us.

"Master Borri?" Arngeir prompted.

The old monk nodded. _**"Bex!"**_

The gate swung open. Wulfgar wasted no time in swallowing a breath of the cold, fresh air of the mountain.

_**"Wuld... Nah... Kest!"**_ Wulfgar was in-between the pillars one second, and at the other side of the gate the next. I feared that I had blinked and missed what had happened.

"Now it is your turn," Arngeir told me as I stepped in-between the pillars. "Stand next to me. Master Borri will open the gate. Use your Whirlwind Sprint to pass through before it closes."

I waited only a moment before Borri shouted, _**"Bex!"**_

_**"Wuld!"**_ I felt my body leave the ground for a second as I was catapulted forward, but my balance wasn't hard to regain once the speed had worn off. I sighed in relief when I didn't smash into Wulfgar.

I approached Arngeir, as he was obviously the only Greybeard who had spoken to me since my arrival. "Your quick mastery of a new Thu'um is... astonishing. I'd heard the stories of the abilities of Dragonborn, but to see it for myself..."

I shrugged. "It just... _happens_."

He nodded. "You are now ready for your last trial. Retrieve the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller, our founder, from his tomb in the ancient fane of Ustengrav. Remain true to the Way of the Voice, and you will return."

_A horn? I need to get a horn? Ugh! This is more trouble than its worth!_ I rubbed my temples, but Arngeir didn't seem to get I was annoyed at all. He just smiled.

"There are only four of you?" I finally asked. "Greybeards, I mean."

"Five." I blinked at Arngeir's answer. "Our leader, Paarthurnax, lives alone at the peak of the Throat of the World. When your Voice can open the path, you will know you are ready to speak to him."

I sighed. "Thank-you. I guess I'd better get that horn now..."

Arngeir nodded. "Good luck, Dragonborn. Remember what we have taught you."

"Where are my companions?"

Arngeir pointed at the doors. "You will find them inside. They requested rest while you were training, so before you venture off to retrieve the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller, you may rest as well."

I thanked him again and nearly sprinted into the monastery. I wasn't looking forward to any questions that they may have, but I would have to face them sooner-or-later. It was either that, or leave without them.

But I'd never abandon Milos. He'd find me again if I did and probably dangle me from the top of the Throat of the World. At least he kept things interesting.


	13. To Be Dragonborn

Chapter Twelve:

To Be Dragonborn

It was already past nightfall when we had finished my training. I was beyond exhausted. Seven-thousand steps, a frost troll, and constant shouting definitely played the largest parts. But my mind was just as tired as my body. Questions were pouring in and I found myself stuffing them into corners of my mind that I hadn't dreamed existed. Too many questions, and not enough answers.

Everyone, incidentally, was fast asleep once I'd found the room Arngeir had sent them to, in simple beds similar to those in the keep at Helgen. Hiemdall had even gone the extra mile to get comfortable and removed his armour, opting for simple clothing instead.

I sat on the last remaining bed, away from my companions, pulled my hood over my head as far as it could go, and then rested my elbows on my knees, still grasping the edges of my hood. Maybe I could just hide from everything. High Hrothgar was a great place to do so, but not if everything seemed to revolve around me. I found myself missing that stupid house on the hill outside of Anvil's walls, overlooking the sea. I'd wanted to be a sailor when I was young. Besides Milos, I had no ties to the land. I could grasp the rigging and swing around the boat, over the water, without a care in the world, and only the open sea before me. Another child's dream, one that would likely never be fulfilled.

In my time in Skyrim, I had received too much in too short a time. Thane of Whiterun, Dragonborn... It felt like Taryn Greystone, the orphan from Anvil, was disappearing. There wouldn't ever be a "Taryn Greystone, voyager extraordinaire", or even a simple "Taryn Greystone". Just, "Thane Taryn Greystone, Dragonborn".

The title made me cringe, as my memories went back to why I had fled Cyrodiil in the first place. It also made me wonder that, if Milos hadn't ever returned to Black Marsh to find out what had truly happened to his parents, would my fate have been different?

My knuckles were white as I clenched my fists, pulling on the fabric of my hood more. What else would have been different in my life, if I'd had parents in the first place? I wouldn't be an orphan, and I wouldn't grow up hating women older than I. Maybe I wouldn't have trouble with authority figures, like guards, or Counts for that matter.

_"What were your parents like?" I asked Milos as we gazed into the fire._

_ He fidgeted and stared at his hands. "They were kind. They always made me feel like... Well, like I was everything to them. I loved them. Of course I did—they were my parents. They should be the people you love unconditionally, and they should return it." Milos hesitated. "My mother was very proper, and taught me how to read a lot. I'm still not very good, but she was patient with me. My father was hard, and believed that I could do most things myself, even though I was young. But there would be days when he'd let me sit on his lap, and he'd tell me stories of Black Marsh." He looked at me then, tearing his yellow eyes from his hands. "What about you? What were your parents like?"_

_ "I..." I wondered if I should spin a tale for the young Argonian. He'd be none-the-wiser, but I felt like I could trust him. He'd just spoken to me honestly, for Gods' sake! "I didn't know my parents. The hag back at the orphanage was just an assistant when I was left there. The Madame at the time told me that I was left here by a man with a grey beard. Not very specific, but she said he didn't say a word. He just handed me over to her and turned around, going back to wherever the hell he came."_

_ "What if he was your grandfather?" Milos asked._

_ I shrugged. "If he was, then why give me away? I'd be blood, and you take care of blood. If he wasn't—and I'm certain he wasn't—then he just wanted to be rid of me as quickly as possible, and that'd be that."_

_ "Then why wouldn't he leave you to die?"_

_ "I dunno. Why're the Thalmor dickheads? We don't know that either." I frowned. "All I want is to live my life to the best of my ability. I don't want any ties, I don't want anything to hold me down, and I don't want a family. What's the point of having one if you're just going to leave it?"_

_ "Leave it?" Milos repeated._

_ "I want to sail, Milos! I want to travel the Nirn, see all the borders of Tamriel, and be free. I would only have to listen to a Captain, and who knows? I could become one, and then I wouldn't have to listen to anyone. I'd be my own person, with my own ship, on my own time, using my own rules. And damn everyone to Oblivion who thinks otherwise!"_

_ Milos smiled. "I'd go with you."_

_ "You'd be my first mate!" I exclaimed. "Milos and Taryn, the best and most fearsome sailors in all of Tamriel! And we'll have our own flag!"_

I laid down on the bed and stared at the ceiling, but sat back up again because the ceiling looked too gloomy. I wondered if there was a Shout to turn back time, so I could at least kick the Madame in the shins before fleeing to Skyrim.

"Septim for your thoughts?" Milos sat on the other side of the single bed, his back meeting mine and his tail curling onto my lap. He used to do that when we lived in the orphanage.

"Keep your septims," I replied, smiling weakly. "We'll need them to get wherever we're going."

"You can tell me anything, Taryn. You know that."

I sighed, putting a hand on Milos' scaly tail. "It's... not something I'm particularly proud of. I just... I can't talk about it right now."

Milos' hand was on my shoulder then, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "I know how you feel. Actually, no, I don't. I'm not one of these mystical Dragonborn. But I know that there's a reason some things happen. We may not like some of 'em, but we can either fight against it, or ride with it. Despite what these old geezers are saying, you are Taryn. Don't doubt that. The Gods have a set path for us—our destinies."

I chuckled. "I prefer to make my own path. I can acknowledge that there are most likely deities of all sorts around—look at the evidence we have!—but I doubt that they have a set path for us. It'd be too tedious. And anyway, the Divines seem to like to pick on me. All nine of 'em."

"Still the rebel, I see."

"Did you ever doubt? The Thalmor can shove their stupid 'reasoning'. Talos is Talos, _and_ he's Tiber Septim. Who's to say differently?"

Milos' tail slid out of my grasp as he stood up. I was a bit disappointed, but Milos came around and picked me up off of the bed in a tight hug. My feet were dangling uselessly in the air he was so tall, but his grip loosened and I managed to return it.

"I'm sorry, but I never got to say it. I missed you, Taryn. I really did. Black Marsh was excruciating without you." Milos released me, revealing a toothy grin. "Even if you don't believe in a set path, I'm glad we found each other again."

I smiled and buried my head in his chest. We were like a brother and sister, despite that one of us had horns and a tail. I imagined that this was what it was like to have siblings who cared about you.

"Dammit, Milos..."

"You're not gonna start crying, are you?" Milos chuckled. "I remember that."

"You were a little bastard!" I snapped, glaring up at him. "I had every right to cry then! You should've told me that you didn't run away, you stupid lizard!"

Milos covered my mouth with his hand and looked at our two companions. They were fast asleep, or, at least, Hiemdall was. Aldren was just as silent as I'd come to expect of him.

"I went for a walk outside the walls and got lost," Milos explained (probably for the millionth time), removing his hand. "I'd never not tell you if I was leaving. I just forgot that day."

"You were angry at me that day."

"I told you not to take the blame for the broken vase, Taryn. You listened about as well as you usually do. I had every right to be." Milos' eyes narrowed. It struck me how much he resembled a Dragon when he did that. "Those scars on your back are my fault. The Madame shouldn't have hit you like that, but you took that for me. It might as well have been me holding the damn stick."

I smiled. "Milos, it's fine—."

"No, it's not. Anyway, we've traveled far, you've just had a shouting match, let's get some sleep."

I sighed, remembering the climb to High Hrothgar. "Yeah. Tomorrow we have to get a damn horn for these guys."

"Oh, goody. Is it big? Are they going to fill it full of food?"

"Can you stop thinking about your stomach for _two_ _seconds_?"

Milos paused. "Two seconds is up."

I threw my hands in the air in frustration. "Whatever! I'm going to sleep!"

Milos put a hand on my head and rustled my hair. "Have a good sleep, Taryn." He approached his bed and then hesitated. "By the way, tomorrow, maybe I'll tell you what I found in Black Marsh. Five years gives one many answers, not all of them good."

I nodded and bid him a good-night. There had been many good memories with Milos, and he'd made living in that hellhole bearable. I'd hated that place—still do. But having someone there to support me was nothing short of a relief.

I laid on the bed and closed my eyes, my entire body relaxing. Milos could take the weight off my shoulders in an instant and throw it off a cliff. I just hoped that I'd been able to do the same for him.

When I woke up several hours later, it was well past dawn. Hiemdall was the only one still asleep, and he looked comfortable, so I didn't wake him up. I stretched and rubbed my eyes, then sifted through my pack to make sure nothing had accidentally fallen out. When I was satisfied, I flung it onto my back, equipped my bow and longsword, and went to find Aldren and Milos.

I really wasn't surprised when I saw Milos talking with Aldren, a bottle of Honningbrew Mead in his hand. He was really getting hooked to the stuff. Aldren was flipping one of his daggers in the air and grabbing it by the blade deftly, without cutting his hand, while talking to Milos. I expected him to cut himself at least once, but his skill with those things was superior to my expectations.

"Morning," I greeted, approaching the two. "What's up?"

"I was just telling Aldren here about the time you kicked a city guard in his family jewels," Milos explained, grinning. "And I brought this to give to the Greybeards for letting us stay. Couldn't find 'em, though. I didn't want to go outside in case I wasn't allowed."

"There's just a courtyard there," I told him. "I'm sure you'll be fine."

Milos shrugged. "Regardless, one of the Greybeards should be here soon."

Hiemdall trudged up to us, his hair a mess and his eyes drooping. He yawned, revealing a massive abyss. "What'd I miss?" he asked, rubbing the back of his head (or scratching... I think).

"We're preparing to leave, dog," Aldren said, not at all gently. "You'd better get ready."

"Yeah, yeah. I will." Hiemdall put a hand on my head. "Morning," he said, and then left to change and get his stuff.

I pointed after him. "What in Oblivion was that?"

"What?" Milos asked.

"How come he did that?" I snapped.

"I do that to you all the time," Milos pointed-out. "I think he's got a crush on you. You can attract the Nords like I attract Imperials."

I rolled my eyes. "I hope he doesn't. I've got enough on my plate to deal with..."

"Yeah. Being Dragonborn obviously isn't just a free pass to shout at people."

I groaned. "Please... _never_ call me that!"

Milos grinned and put the mead on a table in the main room we'd been standing in, under the hole in the roof. "There. They can at least enjoy a bit of this stuff now. They'd better not be stingy."

"Milos... they're _monks_."

Surprisingly, Aldren was the one to reply. "So? I drank a lot when I was training to be a priest. What's wrong with it?"

_The assassin was training to be a priest? Well,_ I thought, _at least I'm not the only one who's full of surprises._


	14. A Friend

Chapter Thirteen:

A Friend

Needless to say, going down the mountain was easier than going up. We were in Ivarstead in half the time it took to climb up to High Hrothgar, where we gathered a bit more supplies.

"Now, where'd the Greybeards say we were going to find this horn?" Milos asked.

I took out my map (one that I'd just bought) and studied it. "Arngeir said it'd be in Ustengrav."

"Ustengrav?" Aldren studied my map, and then pointed. "It should be in Hjaalmarch, I think..."

"Somewhere around Morthal," Hiemdall added. "What we can do now is head south to this road here, follow it east until we get into Riften, and hire a wagon from there. It'll save us a few days of walking."

I sighed and folded the map. "Let's get moving. If we want to reach Riften soon, we'd best not dally. I don't want to run into anything... unpleasant... after dark."

"It'll just be some thugs," Milos said, smiling as we started south. "And maybe a few Werewolves... or Vampires... Maybe some trolls too. Or we could run into Dragons!"

"You're not making me feel any better, Milos," I groaned.

"You can just Shout at anything we come across."

"I'm going to Shout you all the way to Black Marsh if you're not careful."

Milos held his hands up in defense and backed-off, though I supposed that he wasn't yet ready to let it go. Behind us, Aldren was smirking and Hiemdall was covering his mouth with his hand, attempting to hide his smile.

"D'you guys want a piece of me too?" I growled.

Hiemdall took his hand away from his mouth. "I'm fine. Don't want to land back in the Jorrvaskr after flying to the peak of the Throat of the World."

Aldren didn't answer, but whether it was because he'd burst out in laughter or just because he didn't want to, I wasn't entirely sure. We traveled for only a few hours before we reached the road we'd wanted to, after going around a small mountain and avoiding a few bears native to the area. We immediately turned east, towards Riften, passing beside the Treva River once and then watching as it connected to Lake Henrick, the lake on the very edge of Riften. Riften itself looked a little smaller than Whiterun, and just from the outside it looked a little less clean, but we weren't going in to see it. We walked around Riften instead, beside its eastern wall, in order to get to the stables. There, we found a wagon that looked ready to take us where we wanted to go.

The driver charged us fifty gold to get to Morthal, but it seemed like a bargain, so I paid for the ride while Aldren and Hiemdall were checking through our things. We barely even noticed the guards' eyes.

"Oh, Cha'qim apologizes. She will not be so careless again." I focused my eyes on where I believed the voice came from. A Khajiit in odd leather armour was apologizing to Aldren, since she had bumped into him. I smiled. _At least the people are nice here._

Aldren grumbled something completely unintelligible and the Khajiit went on her way. My eyes lingered on the Khajiit for a moment longer, but it was lucky that I did. I recognized Aldren's coin purse in her hand.

"Aldren," I said, walking hurriedly over to him, "where's you coin purse?"

"Right h—." Aldren tapped his waist, and his eyes widened. "Damn! It's gone!" He whirled around. "That damn Khajiit! It stole my coin purse!"

Before I could stop him, Aldren charged into Riften. I asked the driver to wait for us and hurried in after him. We split up, sprinting through back alleys and even going plankside to find the Khajiit. I knew she was playing with us, because I would catch glimpses of her and hear her laugh.

I was finally behind her, sprinting with all my might while she danced around the alleys. I had absolutely no way to catch her!

Unless...

_**"Fus!"**_ I shouted. The Thu'um caught the Khajiit, and she spun into a wall, effectively hitting her head. She was dazed, so I quickly ran up to her and grabbed her arms. "I'm so sorry, I really didn't want to have to do that!" I exclaimed.

"Well whatever you did, it was quite a surprise." The Khajiit smiled. "Cha'qim is awed."

"Don't be." I held out my hand. "Please give me the coin purse. I'll let you go immediately if you do."

"And what would make Cha'qim trust your words, Imperial?"

I released her arms and helped her to stand. "I have nothing to make you trust me. I'm just asking that you do."

"Trust is hard to find, especially in Riften." She shrugged and handed me the coin purse. "But here you are. Your friend's coin purse. Tell him that we target those who flaunt these things, and to be wiser as to where it is put."

"Thank-you." I grinned at her. "Oh, and I think that tiring out your opponent was a smart thing to do. Just do it fast so you can get back to your base."

"Ah, so the Imperial has knowledge of thievery?"

"I do. I ran with a few thieves back in Cyrodiil for two years. Be careful next time, Cha'qim."

"I will think on what you have said, Imperial." The cat was gone almost instantly, using her claws to scale one of the walls in the alley.

I sighed and went back to the wagon, where Aldren seemed to be pouting. I tossed him his coin purse and told him to keep it hidden next time. If anything, it was already an eventful day.

"We heard you Shout," Milos said as I climbed into the wagon. "Did that cat fall apart?"

"No, I just stunned her," I grumbled. "And probably half of Riften."

"Maybe all." Milos shrugged and slumped his shoulders. "I'm going to sleep now."

"Already?"

"Mhm. Wake me when we get there."

Hours were crawling by slower than a mudcrab while we were in the wagon. It occurred to me that I had barely anything to talk about with my companions, but they were dying to ask me questions. Well, Hiemdall and Milos were, but Milos was asleep, and if Aldren wanted to ask me something he masked his desire well.

We reached Morthal before nightfall, and I could still see the Throat of the World. Just staring at its peak made me want to explore it a bit more, past the monastery, and the Greybeards. Maybe that was where this "Paarthurnax" would be. I found it odd that he could still be alive, since he'd been mentioned on the etched tablets, but it was harder to believe that it could be a Dragon. He probably wasn't anyway. Kyne must have given him an extended life to teach the Greybeards.

We disembarked the wagon and didn't stop in Morthal. I wasn't the only one who wanted to get this over with. So, we headed north-east, towards where Ustengrav was, according to the wagon driver. We crossed the marsh, and eventually found mound above the ground.

We found three bandits and a necromancer, too.

Acting quickly, Hiemdall, Milos and Aldren charged forward, swinging their respective blades, while I hung in the back for fire support. I didn't allow the necromancer to swing one spell. He went down quickly, courtesy of my bow. When the bandits were dead, we took a moment to loot their bodies for any gold they would have. Milos even found a lockpick, which he gave to me.

We descended into the mound via its spiraling stone steps. A bandit corpse was slumped against some barrels, and after searching both him and the barrels, we opened the wooden door into Ustengrav.

The tunnel we came into was misty and sloped downwards. We snuck in carefully, sticking to the shadows of the flickering flames around us and looting another bandit corpse. We all emerged into a chamber at the base of the tunnel, and spotted movement.

Aldren put a hand on my shoulder when I drew my arrow and pressed a finger to his lips. With incredible stealth, he sped forward without a sound, drawing one of his glass daggers. We held our breaths when the two necromancers turned to face Aldren, but couldn't see him. I briefly wondered if the necromancers had tested their own brains lately. When a necromancer passed by Aldren, the assassin stood, covered the necromancer's mouth and ran his blade over his throat. The necromancer crumpled to the ground, dead, while I loosed an arrow at the other, who had noticed him once her companion was dead.

We rejoined Aldren and pressed on into the ruins, killing one more necromancer as we passed (Milos ran his blade right through the necromancer's chest while he was sneaking). The tunnel we entered had several other corpses, and some looked freshly dead.

For good reason, too. When we emerged into a smaller chamber, three draugr were there to greet us. I drew my sword and stabbed one through its gut as quickly as possible, but I preferred those zombies over the Dragons any day. Aldren and Milos double-teamed one of the remaining draugr, and Hiemdall was quick to slay the other. It was much easier killing things with other people, not like I'd throw any "Let's kill things!" parties any time soon.

For the next hour, we would delve into a tunnel, only to meet more draugr. Though killing them became easy for us all, it was the repetitive growls of the undead that sent me on edge. Once, a draugr had taken a while longer to break from its stone coffin, and minutes after we slaughtered the most recent wave of draugrs, it popped out. We'd all been taken by surprise, but I'd been surprised enough to Shout.

_**"Fus Ro!"**_

The draugr slammed against the wall and erupted into bones, dying instantly. I'd groaned in frustration, pissed that I was using the Shouts so naturally. I really, really hated it, especially since I'd surprised my companions even more than the draugr.

We marched on, mostly in silence so I could brood and despise the damned twist of fate that brought me to Skyrim. Milos knew that I'd give anything to not be able to Shout at this point. It was annoying and frustrating, and gave me horrible images of Dragons and Men attempting to... you know.

When we entered a door inside Ustengrav, a blue light was on our right at the bottom of the stairs. We headed left and ignored the glow, though if I didn't want this entire thing to be over with so quickly I'd have examined it.

We followed the tunnel and fought off a few more draugr, along with some walking skeletons. _Skeletons_. I didn't bother using my bow against them, and opted for swordplay instead.

Milos fended off another draugr while I was taking on a skeleton. "Why don't you just Shout at them and dismember them that way?" he called over the fighting.

"No way in hell!" I replied fiercely.

Once they were dead (for good), we found ourselves in a room full of more draugr and a lot of rotten food. I didn't know what smelt worse.

Once the draugr had been dispatched, we hurried onward. I could feel that we were close to the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller, and I didn't want to delay. The sooner it was done, the better. But then there were more skeletons to fight. Aldren seemed adept at slicing their waists and making them have to crawl, but it was more creepy than it was effective.

One of the crawling skeletons grabbed my ankle. I raised my sword above my head, ready to properly kill it, but with unnatural strength it pulled my ankle towards it and made me lose my balance. The good news? I kicked it in the head with my other foot as I fell. The bad news? I fell off a ledge.

When I hit the ground several seconds later, my breath was knocked from my lungs and I thought some of my bones were broken. I groaned, feeling lucky that the pain hadn't hit me yet.

"Hey, where's Taryn?" I heard Milos ask.

"Down here," I called.

The three of them peering over the edge at me was almost comical. "You okay?" Hiemdall yelled.

I nodded and painfully got to my feet. Surprisingly, nothing was broken, but I was in a lot of pain. "Yeah, I'm fine."

"Hey, didn't we see something like that in Bleak Falls Barrow?" Milos asked, pointing towards a wall of words.

_Word Wall,_ I thought absently. "Yeah. It has the Dragon language."

"Can you read it?"

I huffed. "I don't want to!"

"Maybe it'll have another one of those Words of Power for you to learn."

"Oh goody. Another reason for me to hang myself." I could feel Milos' disapproving gaze on me. "Fine! I'll see what I can do..."

I approached the Word Wall and examined it. I had no idea how I'd understand it, but I assumed a word would glow like before. At least that'd make it easier.

"There are two words jumping into my head when I'm looking at these symbols," I told them. "What ones do you want me to read?"

"The ones that come first!" Hiemdall yelled down.

I shrugged. _"NONVUL BRON DahMaan DaaR ROT FIN; FODiiZ BORMah-Nii LOS HeyV DO ENOOK; MUN WaH LahNey VOTH ahKRIN ahRK ZIN; LEH ROK _**_FeiM_**_ VODahMIN KOTIN VULOM."_

"And how, pray tell, did you come up with that gibberish?"

"It's not gibberish! It's the first thing that came to my head when I read it!"

"And how're we supposed to understand what it means, lizard-girl?"

"Hey!" I snapped. "Don't make me come up there and shove an arrow through your eye!"

"Calm down!" Milos interjected swiftly. "Taryn, d'you know what it means?"

_"Noble Nords remember these words of the hoar father—It is the duty of each man to live with courage and honor lest he fade forgotten into darkness,"_ I recited. "Don't ask me how I know, because I don't."

The word "Fade" was jumping out to me, and it glowed, so I ran my hand over the word. Its glow intensified, like the one in Bleak Falls Barrow, and then it dulled. I guessed that it would be a new Shout soon enough, once I got the knowledge of how to use the word.

I found a way up to my companions, and when we crossed the narrow bridge to the other side I was glaring daggers at Hiemdall. Maybe we were both just tired and frustrated, but I had no idea why he'd start to call me names because of what I'd read. Maybe it was his time of the month...?

We were faced with three stones, one on our right, two on our left, and the one nearest to us glowed when we approached it. A gate opened across from us, but two were still down. Milos sprinted forward with incredible speed, all three of the stones glowing red as he passed, but when he reached the gates they slammed down. Milos hadn't been close.

"Damn!" he cursed. "How're we getting past this?"

"Ugh... I'll do it," I volunteered, though it was half-heartedly.

"And how do you suppose you're going to get to the other side of the gates without impaling yourself on them?" Milos inquired.

"Shouting."

"That Shout you have isn't going to make you go faster," Milos pointed-out. "Well, unless you look the other way and propel yourself."

"The Greybeards taught me a different Shout," I admitted. "Out in the courtyard. It'll come in handy." I stood stationary, waiting for the rocks to stop glowing. All but the first did, and only because I was standing next to it. I took a deep breath. _**"Wuld!"**_

I was propelled forward, the stones turning red instantly, and as soon as the Shout finished I was sprinting. I slid under the last gate as it came down and made it safely to the other side in no time flat.

"Good thing those Greybeards prepared you for this," Aldren remarked.

"No kidding." I pulled a lever and the gates opened, allowing the boys to come through. "Thank me later."

When we got to a room that had pressure plates absolutely everywhere, Aldren said he'd find a safe path. He carefully moved around the plates, and when he stepped on a wrong one fire would spew upward. I figured out the pattern after a while and followed after him, with Hiemdall and Milos close behind me. When we caught up with Aldren, he had already dispatched two frostbite spiders, and was working on a third. He killed it before we could draw our weapons.

We had to hack our way through some spider webs to get to the next area, and now that there were no more pressure plates, we walked freely around. Milos' upper lip curled at the sight of the frostbite spider corpses. He still didn't like those things.

Luckily, we weren't faced with any monsters once we got through the webs. Just a wooden door, and after passing through that, there was a portcullis, but there was also a pull chain to get through it. It was probably the easiest time we'd had of the entire dungeon.

The room past the portcullis had water on either side of a path in the middle, and pillars holding the roof up from the water. A tomb was on the opposite side of the room, and we were just a stone's throw away from the horn.

As we descended the stairs to the path, obelisks resembling what I thought were Dragons rose from the water. They weren't Dragons upon closer inspection, but I couldn't figure out what they were.

When we reached the tomb on the other side of the room, there was a stone hand created from the tomb stretching upward, holding a note. Milos, Hiemdall and Aldren searched around for the horn while I grabbed the note.

_"Dragonborn,_

_ I need to speak with you. Urgently. Rent the attic room at the Sleeping Giant Inn in Riverwood, and I'll meet you._

_ A friend."_

I crumpled the note, shaking in rage. Milos put a hand on my shoulder.

"Erm... Taryn? Are you all right?"

With deadly calm, I smiled at him. "Never better."

Milos backed-off immediately.


	15. The Blade

Chapter Fourteen:

The Blade

We stopped in Morthal at the Moorside Inn to rest once we left Ustengrav. I was livid, upset that our hard work had turned up nothing. Someone had taken the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller before us. I was going to find that person and punch them in the face for doing that.

We had rented two rooms for us all. Aldren disliked the presence of many people and retired early, while Hiemdall, Milos and I were in the main area drinking mead and having a bite to eat (Aldren had brought his food to his room with him).

I glared hatefully at my tankard while I thought about the letter. Why would someone do that when they knew I was coming? Why couldn't they just leave the horn for us, _and_ the note?

Milos and Hiemdall were having a drinking competition with actual beer instead of mead, and they were being cheered-on by the other patrons. Hiemdall could hold his own, but Milos' Argonian endurance proved helpful. In the end, Hiemdall lost to Milos, but neither of them were very drunk at all. I think Milos didn't like the taste of beer.

I, instead, was listening to the bard, who was singing a song I was becoming fond of. I liked the tune better than the lyrics, only because it reminded me of the Civil War and, incidentally, the Thalmor.

_"__We drink to our youth, to days come and gone._  
_For the age of aggression is just about done._  
_We'll drive out the Stormcloaks and restore what we own._  
_With our blood and our steel we'll take back our home._  
_Down with Ulfric! The killer of kings!_  
_On the day of your death we'll drink and we'll sing._  
_We're the children of Skyrim, and we fight all our lives._  
_And when Sovngarde beckons, every one of us dies!_  
_But this land is ours and we'll see it wiped clean._  
_Of the scourge that has sullied our hopes and our dreams."_

Milos came to sit beside me and dug ravenously into his rabbit haunch. "You should really eat something," he said through mouthfulls, "instead of giving off all the 'hate' vibes. It's really pshycing people out."

"When I have a reason to be happy, I will," I growled, taking a gulp of Honningbrew Mead.

"Music then?" he suggested. "You've always loved it, though you've never been able to sing very well." I narrowed my eyes at him. "C'mon! You sang whenever you were cleaning yourself! It sounded like something was dying!"

I rolled my eyes at him. Milos got up and gave the bard a few coins, to which she smiled and thanked him for.

"What'd you ask her to play?" I asked when Milos sat down again.

"Whatever her favourite song was," he replied, taking a swig of my mead (that bastard...).

"This one's a favourite of mine," the bard said as she strung her lute. "A legend we all know and love..."

Everyone quietened while she finished tuning the instrument. She cleared her throat once it was done, and smiled the trademark smile of a bard.

_"Our hero, our hero, claims a warrior's heart._

_ I tell you, I tell you, the Dragonborn comes._

_ With a Voice-wielding power of the Ancient Nord art._

_ Believe, believe, the Dragonborn comes._

_ It's an end to the evil of all Skyrim's foes._

_ Beware, beware, the Dragonborn comes._

_ For the darkness has passed and the legend yet grows._

_ You'll know, you'll know, the Dragonborn's come."_

At the mention of the first "Dragonborn", my head slammed violently against the table. Milos was sniggering, making me seriously question if he had planned it. At every other Dragonborn, my head would hit the table again.

"I'm going to bed," I grumbled, defeated.

When I woke up in the morning, everyone was already packing for our long trek to Riverwood. I wasn't sure if we were even going to stop in Whiterun, so we supplied ourselves to the best of our abilities without wasting much coin.

Within the hour we were on the road to Riverwood. I was silent for half of the trip, thinking about the possible ways I could visciously torture the "friend" who'd written the note. When Milos decided to speak to me, I was favouring bludgeoning that person with the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller… if they still had it and hadn't pawned it off to Lucan Valerius.

"You're awfully quiet," Milos observed.

I snorted. "No, really? I thought I was pretty talkative… in my head."

"Still angry about that song, eh?"

I heard Hiemdall giggling behind me. I frowned. "I can't get that stupid song outta my head, and it annoys me. Plus, our hard work was wasted because of some idiot!"

"Well, as soon as we get that horn, we can give it back to the Greybeards and continue on our way." Milos pointed to the companions trailing behind us. "Hiemdall can go back to working for the Companions, and Aldren can hunt you down to kill you while we go do whatever the hell we'll do. Everyone'll be happy."

_"Our hero, our hero, claim's a warrior's—."_

I glared at Hiemdall, effectively cutting him off. "No, please continue. I don't think you've got a taste of my damn Shout yet!"

Hiemdall wisely stayed silent. Well, until he whispered, "D'you think it's _that_ _time_, guys…?"

I sucked in a breath, but Milos stepped in front of Hiemdall. _Seems like they got close after drinking together back in the Jorrvaskr…_ I exhaled and continued on, muttering darkly.

The rest of the journey went relatively smoothly. Yes, there were a few wolves that wandered onto the road and decided that we looked relatively harmless, but they were quickly shown their mistake when I set their fur on fire. I decided that I wouldn't get a dog, just-in-case it pissed me off and I accidentally set its fur on fire as well.

When we arrived in Riverwood, we crossed the bridge into town, the opposite way we'd come from when we had only just arrived in the village with Hadvar. I felt like we had just taken three steps back from our single step forward.

Without dallying, we went straight into the Sleeping Giant Inn. I recognized the woman from before, Delphine, when she approached us.

"Welcome to the Sleeping Giant Inn," she greeted. She probably didn't recognize me, but it looked like she remembered Milos. Not many Argonians passed through Riverwood, I guessed. "What'll it be? Food? Drink? Beds?"

I cleared my throat. "Erm… We'd like to rent your attic room, please."

She placed her hands on her hips, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. "Attic room, eh? Well… we don't have an attic room, but you can have the one on the left, and the one beside that as well." I handed twenty septims to Delphine, who added, "Make yourself at home."

It wasn't an hour later, when the sun had gone down, that I laid down on the bed and just stared blatantly at the roof. I was sharing my room with Milos, whereas Aldren and Hiemdall were sharing theirs.

"I give up," I grumbled.

"Huh?"

"I give up," I repeated, a little louder. "Someone steals the horn, there's no attic room in the inn they wanted to meet us—."

"_You_."

"—And I am currently the most pissed-off Imperial in the history of Tamriel."

Milos snorted. "I think the Hero of Kvatch was probably pissed too. Can you imagine what they went through, travelling to the planes of Oblivion?"

"I'm not the Hero of Kvatch, Milos." I sighed. "Whatever that person went through was their problem, just like this is mine. But they're a legend! I'm sure they handled their duty with a spring in their step!"

"Duty? You said it like being Dragonborn is your duty too."

"Well, sorry, I didn't mean for it to sound like that. Because it's really an inconvinience."

"I don't know about that. Think of all the nagging you can do using the power of the Voice…"

"If you would _let_ me do it instead of standing in front of the people I wanted to do it to," I remarked.

"You would've blown him to bits," Milos replied. "The way you looked at him and the state you were in… You'd have regretted doing it later. I didn't want Hiemdall to end up like High King Torygg."

"Torygg?"

Milos scratched the underside of his jaw. "I heard a few guards from Whiterun talking when you were unconscious. One said that Ulfric Stormcloak fought Torygg in a one-on-one duel, and that he had Shouted Torygg to the ground, finishing him with his sword. But another guard argued that Ulfric took Torygg by surprise and Shouted him to pieces."

I rubbed my temples. "Great. Conflicting opinions. The world can't run without opposing factions." I sighed. "Idiots! Idiots everywhere! Can't they just see that the Thalmor are the real threat and put the Civil War aside for two seconds? Everyone can be bitter with each other when the Thalmor are retreating back to Summerset Isle!"

"I'm actually surprised how you're not joining the Imperial army," Milos said, lying down on his bed.

"Believe me, if I had the option, I wouldn't. There's no point to it. I didn't leave Cyrodiil to be tied down to something I'll have an obligation to."

"I can't wait until you get married and have kids. I'll take that moment to say, 'I told you so'."

"But you _haven't_ told me anything."

"I'm saying it now: you're gonna be travelling for a while, and then you're gonna find a nice boy who you'll want to spend your life with and make little short-tempered babies with, because they'll most likely take after you."

I considered this, and then sat on my bed and stared at Milos accusingly. "Who are you, my mother? And by the way, I'm not short-tempered." I laid down in the bed again and brought the covers over me. "I just have a quick reaction to bullshit."

Milos chuckled and then crawled under his own covers, blowing the candles lighting the room out.

It was only a few hours later that we were woken up, since there was no light from the sun quite yet, and the sounds from the main area had died down. It must have been extremely early in the morning. Anyway, Delphine shook me awake, gently enough so I didn't Shout her face off.

"So you're the Dragonborn I've been hearing so much about," she remarked, smiling thinly. "I think you're looking for this."

She handed me the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller as I sat up in the bed. I stared at it for a while, the thoughts of bludgeoning coming back. It was grey (unsurprisingly) and smaller than I thought it would be.

"We need to talk," Delphine continued. "Follow me."

I slowly crawled out of my bed, placing the horn on my pack as I went. I made sure not to make any noise so I wouldn't wake Milos up. Delphine led me across the hallway to where I supposed that she slept. She stopped in front of the wardrobe and glanced back at me.

"Close the door," she instructed.

I turned around and shut the door quietly. The innkeeper (who was usually behind the counter, but was now sweeping) glanced at me, but otherwise ignored me. As soon as the door was closed, I heard another open. I turned around and saw Delphine stepping into the wardrobe, which turned out to be a secret door. I think my jaw dropped.

"Now we can talk," she said.

I carefully followed her through the wardrobe and down the stairs. We emerged into a well-lit room, with a single table in the centre that had books and maps on it. A few weapons racks hung from the wall, one with a strange sword that had a slightly curved blade and an extended hilt. There was a training dummy in one corner, an alchemy lab in another, and a shelf with a few assorted potions and items.

Delphine went around the table and placed her hands on it, facing me. "The Greybeards seem to think you're the Dragonborn. I hope they're right."

"You're the one who took the horn?" I still wasn't quite convinced. Perhaps she was a leeway?

"Surprised?" Delphine smirked. "I guess I'm getting pretty good at my harmless innkeeper act."

I copied her movement and leaned against the table. I was wide awake now. "What's with all the cloak and dagger?"

"I didn't go through all this trouble on a whim. I needed to make sure it wasn't a Thalmor trap. I'm not your enemy. I already gave you the horn. I'm actually trying to help you. I just need you to hear me out."

I sighed. "Go on. I'm listening."

"Like I said in my note, I've heard that you might be Dragonborn. I'm part of a group that's been looking for you… well, someone like you, for a very long time. If you really _are_ Dragonborn, that is. Before I tell you any more, I need to make sure I can trust you."

"Wait a second," I said, stopping her from saying whatever she was going to say. "Why did you take the horn from Ustengrav?"

"I knew the Greybeards would send you there if they thought you were Dragonborn. They're nothing if not predictable," she answered confidently. "When you showed up here, I knew you were the one the Greybeards sent, and not some Thalmor plant."

"So how do I know if I can trust you?"

"If you didn't trust me, you were a fool to walk in here in the first place."

I frowned. She probably wasn't remembering the huge Argonian and Nord with gigantic swords strapped to their backs, and the Dark Elf assassin.

"You said the Thalmor are after you?" I pressed.

Delphine nodded, her eyes turning cold. "Yes. We're very old enemies. And if my suspicions are correct, they might have something do to with the Dragons returning. But that isn't important right now. What _is_ important is that you might be Dragonborn."

"Why are you looking for a Dragonborn?" At least she'd piqued my interest.

"We remember what most don't—that the Dragonborn is the ultimate Dragonslayer," Delphine explained, relaxing. "You're the only one that can kill a Dragon permanently by devouring its soul. Can you do it? Can you devour a Dragon's soul?"

_Devour? Who said anything about devouring?_ "I… absorb some kind of power from Dragons. That's all I can say."

Delphine narrowed her eyes at me. "This is no time to play the reluctant hero. You either are or aren't Dragonborn. But I'll see for myself soon enough."

"So what's the part you're not telling me?" I asked, ignoring the desire to Shout at her.

"Dragons aren't just coming back," she explained, "they're coming back to life." I felt like my heart stopped. The fear I felt when I saw that black Dragon back at Helgen seemed to be rekindled. "They weren't gone somewhere for all these years. They were dead, killed off centuries ago by my predecessors. Now something's happening to bring them back to life. And I need you to help me stop it."

I shook my head, forcing the image of the black Dragon out of it. "Do you know how crazy this sounds?"

"Ha. A few years ago, I said almost the same thing to a colleague of mine. Well, it turned out he was right, and I was wrong."

"And what makes you think they're coming back to life?"

"I know they are. I've visited their ancient burial mounds and found them empty. And I've figured out where the next one will come back to life." Delphine straightened out and stood tall. "We're going to go there, and you're going to kill that Dragon. If we succeed, I'll tell you anything you want to know."

_Kill _another_ Dragon? Are you friggin' kidding me?_ I groaned, my distaste apparent to Delphine. "So where are we headed?" I asked reluctantly.

"Kynesgrove," she answered, pointing to a village on the map near Windhelm. "There's an ancient Dragon buriel near there. If we can get there before it happens, maybe we'll learn how to stop it."

"But what about my—?"

"I can't wait around for you to make up your mind," she interrupted sternly. "I'll meet you at Kynesgrove. Don't waste time getting there."

Delphine left the room, and left me there. I was making a face that even _I _didn't register, one that pretty much said, "What the hell?"


	16. Returning the Horn

Chapter Fifteen:

Returning the Horn

We left for High Hrothgar first, taking a shortcut around the southern part of the Throat of the World into Ivarstead. We decided to return the horn first, and then meet Delphine at Kynesgrove. Milos had seemed surprised when I told him about Delphine and her desire to see me kill a Dragon. He could tell I wasn't very thrilled.

Hiemdall and Aldren got to see the ruins of Helgen as we passed them. There were bandits inside, but I didn't want to go clear it out. The further I was from that place, the better. The two had taken it in, but said nothing. I didn't really think words could be said about it, anyway.

Once we got to Ivarstead, we realized that we had made good time. Once we'd climb up to High Hrothgar, we'd have enough time to make it to Kynesgrove before the sun went down. I lamented sadly about how my spared life was being wasted running errands for monks with grey beards and a woman who thought Dragons were being brought back to life.

Climbing to the monastery proved to be much easier the second time around, even though we were tired from all the steps. There were no frost trolls, only wolves, and those were easy enough to kill. It wasn't long until we reached High Hrothgar, at high noon, to present the Greybeards with the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller and, hopefully, be done with them. I was pretty excited at the thought. Well, then I'd most likely have to help Delphine. I doubted that she just wanted to see me kill a Dragon, give me a pat on the head and send me on my way.

We found Arngeir kneeling in front of a shrine to our immediate left once we'd entered the monastery. I sighed in relief and dug in my pack to get the horn.

"Ah! You've retrieved the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller," Arngeir said as he stood, and then carefully took it from my hands. "Well done. You have now passed all the trials." Arngeir turned away from me. "Come with me. It is time for us to recognize you formally as Dragonborn."

Arngeir moved around the wall blocking the shrine from the main area, where the sun was shining into the monastery, and stood there. Soon, Wulfgar, Einarth and Borri joined us, forming a diamond shape.

"You are ready to learn the final word of Unrelenting Force, 'Dah', which means 'Push'," Arngeir explained.

Master Wulfgar looked at the ground in front of him. _**"Dah,"**_ he uttered silently.

The word appeared on the ground, glowing as the three I'd learned in High Hrothgar had before.

"With all three words together, this Shout is much more powerful," Arngeir said. "Use it wisely."

I approached the word and studied it closely. Like before, its meaning popped into my head. It was so close to being over…

"Master Wulfgar will now gift you with his knowledge of 'Dah'."

Without warning, that warm feeling came inside me again, glowing orange, but I could see blue in it too. Now more than ever it reminded me of a fire.

"You have completed your training, Dragonborn. We would Speak to you." Arngeir glanced at my companions. "Perhaps you would wait outside? Only the Dragonborn would be capable of withstanding us."

Milos looked at me. It was obvious that he didn't want to leave, but I nodded. Better not to piss off the Greybeards when I was so close to never coming here again, despite my desire to see Skyrim from the tip of the Throat of the World. Milos nodded back to me and led Hiemdall and Aldren out. I hoped I wouldn't be long.

When we heard the door close, Arngeir sighed, but continued with whatever he and the other Greybeards were about to do. I found myself hoping that I _was_ Dragonborn, and this wasn't just a huge misunderstanding, so I wouldn't be blown to bits by whatever they were about to do.

"Stand between us, and prepare yourself," Arngeir instructed. "Few can withstand the unbridled Voice of the Greybeards. But you are ready."

I steadied myself, and just as I thought I was ready, I wasn't. The Greybeards spoke as one, their Voices mercilessly shaking the very foundations of High Hrothgar. My vision was blurring to white as they spoke, but I found my balance and tried my best to persever. After everything I'd been through, from when I'd lived in Cyrodiil to my fight with Mirmulnir

"Lingrah krosis saraan Strundu'ul, voth nid balaan klav praan nau," they recited in unison. "Naal Thu'umu, mu ofan nii nu, Dovahkiin, naal suleyk da Kaan, naal suleyk da Shor, ahrk naal suleyk do Atmorasewuth. Meyz nu Ysmir, Dovahsebrom. Dahmaan daar rok." They fell silent, but their Voices still resounded painfully in my head. _**"Long has the Storm Crown Languished with no worthy brow to sit upon. By our breath we bestow it now to you in the name of Kyne, in the name of Shor, and in the name of Atmora of old. You are Ysmir now, the Dragon of the North. Harken to it."**_

When their pounding Voices left my head, I was glad to see that I was still standing. I lowered my hands from my head. I couldn't even remember bringing them up…

"Dragonborn." For the second time, I heard Arngeir's voice full of awe. I didn't like it very much. It made me uncomfortable. "You have tasted the Voice of the Greybeards, and passed through unscathed. High Hrothgar is open to you." He nodded to me, and then went back to the shrine. The other three Greybeards left as well. And just like that, it was over.

I left High Hrothgar, giving a "thank-you" to Arngeir as I opened the door, which he regarded by nodding as solemnly as all the monks I'd ever known in my lifetime.

"What happened?" Milos asked. He was leaning against the wall just outside the door, while Aldren was in the snow at the base of High Hrothgar and Hiemdall was sitting on the steps. "That was… well, _loud_."

"They congratulated me on not being blown to bits, called me Ysmir, and gave me a headache." I rubbed my head for good measure. "But it's over with. Maybe I should send them a basket full of food as thanks… and flowers. They need to make that place look less depressing."

Milos smirked. "I'd like to see that. When're you gonna skip through the fields in a dress picking flowers? I need to mark that day on my calendar so I can watch."

"Haha, Milos. My sides are splitting."

"I aim to please."

Hiemdall and Aldren fell-in with us while we started down the stairs. I suddenly got curious about what Aldren had done in the snow, and expected to see a body drawn into it or something. I was half-right. I couldn't hide the shock on my face when I saw the snow-angel, but I did my best not to look at Aldren, just-in-case he'd seen me looking at it.

So down the mountain we went. The trip was faster the second time around, since we had started to get used to the path. By the time we had arrived once more in Ivarstead, it was only a few hours past noon, and Kynsegrove was easily several miles away. Perhaps we'd be there a while after the sun had set, depending on the path we took.

Hiemdall looked over my shoulder examined the map. "Let's head south again," he suggested, "and then north to cross the Treva River. We'll avoid Riften, head north-east for a time, and be in Kynesgrove about an hour after sunset."

"You really travel lots around Skyrim, huh?" I inquired. "I don't think I've met anyone with such good timing and knowledge of travel."

"I go all around Skyrim to fulfill contracts that the Companions recieve. I need to know its geography, just-in-case." He tapped his chin. "Yeah, I think we'll make it in good time."

"Perhaps we should invest in some horses soon..."

Aldren appeared in front of me, startling me enough to make me jump. Damn his sneakiness... "Horses cost a thousand septims apiece. We'll need some serious coin if we want to get one for each of us."

"I suppose... But I have no idea what we could do to get the gold," I admitted. "And I don't want to ask you or Hiemdall for money. It's yours, and you earned it."

"And what about the gold we've found on our little adventure?" Hiemdall asked.

"It's shared. Whatever you've picked-up is yours, and the same goes for us. Milos and I, I mean."

Hiemdall shrugged. "Well, maybe the Dragon in Kynesgrove will have a stash."

"It's likely," Milos said. "I've read that Dragons used to hoard treasure like no tomorrow. If we kill a few of these things at their lairs, we could get some serious coin."

I sighed. "Honestly, I'm not even looking forward to this Dragon. The first one we fought was terrifying enough."

"It's gotta be pretty terrifying if Taryn's scared of 'em," Hiemdall said with a smirk.

"You should've seen me when I met my first draugr." I grinned and folded up the map. "Honestly, I was surprised I could still sleep afterwards."

It was odd. For some reason, Hiemdall, Aldren, and Milos reminded me of being back in Anvil, in the orphanage. All the younger kids would follow me around, and my companions had reminded me of the kids. I think I was like a big sister to them, but when I turned eighteen, I was considered an adult and was forced to leave the orphanage. The kids who used to follow me when I was younger were grown up and begged the Madame to let me stay, just like the much younger, much newer kids to the orphanage did. But that devil-woman heard none of it, and then I ended up staying in Anvil just so I could help the kids as much as I could and wait for Milos.

_No,_ I thought, my smile fading. _That's not right. Not all of the kids wanted me to stay. Not all..._

"Let's get moving," Milos said, striding ahead of me. "We don't want to keep that woman waiting. And Taryn has to beat her senseless yet for sending us on a wild goose chase."

And so we followed the road again. Nothing especially eventful happened, only a particularly snobby woman who was late for a wedding. Aldren was chuckling after we passed by.

"She'll be surprised just _how_ late she is," he remarked.

It was obviously an inside joke.

Just like Hiemdall had predicted, we arrived just after sundown. Kynesgrove's inn, the Braidwood Inn, definitely wasn't hard to find, since it was the only building in the entire village (if it could even be called that). Within minutes of our arrival, I could hear the roars of a Dragon not far away. A woman sprinted out of the inn in a panic towards us.

"No, you don't want to go up there!" she gasped as she wildly pointed at the sky. "A Dragon... it's attacking!"

We were already on edge from the roars. This woman's news didn't do us any good. "Where's this Dragon?" I asked.

"It flew over the town and landed on the old Dragon burial mound," she explained. "I don't know what it's doing up there, but I'm not waiting around to find out!"

She sprinted away towards Windhelm, sometimes slipping on the icy stones of the road. I looked at my companions.

"I guess Delphine won't be waiting at the inn if a Dragon's up there," I said. "Let's go."

We hurried up the path behind the mine and the inn, occasionally slipping ourselves. Above us, I could make out a black shape, darker than the night. For me, it seemed to blot out the stars. I could feel myself shivering just looking at it.

"Milos!" I hissed as we got closer to the flying shape. "It's the Dragon from Helgen!"

"How do you—? Never mind, I'm sure you're right." Milos ducked as it flew above us, and we all followed his example. He pointed to a large rock ahead of us. "Look! There's Delphine!"

It was, indeed, Delphine, but she was dressed in leather armour rather than her blue innkeeper's dress, and one of the curved swords I'd seen hanging on a weapon's rack in her secret room was strapped to her hip.

Delphine put a finger to her lips and beckoned us quickly. Once we'd gotten close enough, she hoarsely whispered, "Stay under cover. This is what we came for. We need to see what happens."

The black Dragon beat its wings and lowered itself closer to the ground, though it didn't touch and it was still quite far off. Its red eyes bored into the ground, which had a ring of blue glowing energy around it.

"Sahloknir! Ziil gro dovah ulse!" the Dragon boomed. _**"Sahloknir! I bind your Dragon spirit for eternity!"**_

__"What's it saying?" Milos whispered.

"It said that he's binding his soul..." I hushed him and listened again.

"Slen tiid vo!" The Dragon Shouted at the burial mound. _**"Flesh unrot!"**_

"This is worse than I thought..." Delphine muttered.

Suddenly, the ground where the black Dragon had Shouted exploded upward. I felt my blood run cold as a bony wing rose up and grasped the side of the mound, pulling the rest of its shining skeletal body out of its grave. It looked just like Mirmulnir's bones had looked, so I had no doubt that this was a Dragon. Once it had climbed out of its resting place it was surrounded by an aura that resembled fire, just like the one that had appeared when Mirmulnir was slain. Veins appeared and wrapped around its bones, and then muscle and sinew coated the once-dead Dragon. Finally, silver skin and scales covered the Dragon, and its grey eyes gazed up at the black Dragon.

"Alduin, thuri! Boaan tiid vokriiha suleyksejun kruziik?" the Dragon, Sahloknir, asked intently. _**"Alduin, overlord! The ancient undead rise again?"**_

"Geh, Sahloknir, kaali mir." Alduin, for some reason, seemed like his voice had softened when he spoke to Sahloknir. Perhaps it was just my imagination. _**"Yes, Sahloknir, my trusted ally."**_

"Sahloknir just asked if they're all coming back to life," I told Milos. "The other Dragon said 'Yes'."

"Well, at least they're to the point," Hiemdall quipped.

Alduin's massive head turned to us, its crimson eyes boring into mine. The fear I'd felt earlier didn't leave, only intensified. I thought I'd heard Alduin's name before, but I couldn't remember from where, or if it was even good.

"Ful, losei Dovahkiin? Zu'u koraav nid nol dov do hi." Alduin's tone was sharp and angry, making me feel ever smaller in his presence. _**"So, is this the Dragonborn? Your voice shines not from Dragonkind, but yourself."**_

"I think it's talking to you," Milos said, putting a hand on the greatsword on his back.

"You do not even know our tongue, do you?" the Dragon pressed, this time in common so everyone could hear and understand. "Such arrogance, to dare take for yourself the name of Dovah." Alduin glared at me a moment longer before he looked to the other Dragon. "Sahloknir, krii daar joorre. _**Sahloknir, kill the mortals.**_"

"That's not good!" I yelled.

In a second, everyone had their respective weapons out. Alduin beat his wings and flew off, leaving Sahloknir with us. The Dragon lumbered over, snapping his massive jaws.

"My lord Alduin requires your death!" he roared. "I am glad to oblige him! I am Sahloknir! Hear my Voice and despair!"


	17. The Voice of a Dragon

Chapter Sixteen:

The Voice of a Dragon

"Hiding will not save you!"

Sahloknir's Thu'um was intense and kept me on my toes, mostly because he breathed both fire and frost. I thought they could only breathe fire, but Sahloknir proved me wrong pretty quickly.

We spread out, hoping to attack Sahloknir from all sides. But in one mighty sweep of his tail, we were all catapulted backwards into the snow or the rocks.

"You mortals have grown arrogant while I slept!" Sahloknir unfurled his giant wings and launched himself into the air. "I do not fear you, Dovahkiin!"

Sahloknir banked and breathed fire onto the ground. We had to dive out of the way to avoid it. I waited until the Dragon came around for another attack and then ran into his path.

For a brief second, we locked eyes. Sahloknir's jaw dripped frost, letting me know the Shout he was about to use.

I breathed deeply and readied my own. I hoped I wasn't just being stupid. _**"Fus Ro Dah!"**_

Sahloknir met with Unrelenting Force and was blasted backwards. It was hard to believe that such a massive being could be blown away by a simple shout, but, then again, it was a Thu'um.

He hit a jagged rock and roared, frost spewing from his mouth. The Dragon glared at me, but a corner of his mouth turned upwards.

"Your voice is strong... for a mortal." He growled and got onto his feet. "It's to be a real fight then! Good!"

I ran at him, my sword raised. Aldren leapt from atop a rock, his twin daggers raised. Delphine was sprinting quickly up to Sahloknir's haunches. Milos and Hiemdall were coming at Sahloknir from both sides.

And yet the Dragon was still confident.

Again, Sahloknir swept his tail around. Delphine didn't dodge in time and was slammed backwards. Aldren stabbed his blades into the Dragon's tail and held on for dear life as he was thrown around into the rockface. Sahloknir stepped to his left and brought the claws on his left wing down on Milos, pinning him to the ground. Hiemdall stabbed Sahloknir's right side, and so the Dragon's neck slammed hard into the young Nord.

I quickly ran up the wing that pinned Milos to the ground and stabbed my sword into it. The wing became useless as I raked my sword through the wing and leapt off. Sahloknir roared in anger and attempted to take to the skies, but he fell short and hit the ground hard.

He spewed frost at us, but we all managed to get away. Aldren was still on Sahloknir's tail, nearly forgotten by the Dragon.

"My Voice has been silent for too long!" Sahloknir finally flicked Aldren off of his tail. Aldren was only able to bring one of his glass blades along, as the other was stuck fast. "Dovahkiin! Your voice is no match for mine!"

"We'll just see about that!" I brought my blade down and embedded the blade into the side of his face, hacking about three times before Sahloknir's wounded wing pinned me. "Ow! Okay, wasn't the best idea!"

Milos charged forward. Sahloknir breathed fire at him, and Milos was barely able to get out of the way. It was apparent that keeping my companions away from me was on the Dragon's "to-do" list.

Once my companions were a fair distance away, Sahloknir opened his maw and attempted to bite my head off. I managed to angle away just in time, so he only ate snow and dirt. Sahloknir spat it out and tried again, only to fail once more.

But this time, it wasn't because I moved away.

A fireball slammed into the back of Sahloknir's head. Roaring in anger, Sahloknir swept his tail around to hit his new assailant, but missed.

"You'll have to do better than that, you overgrown gecko!" It sounded like an older man's voice, and not one I was familiar with at all.

Sahloknir was hit with another fireball, but this one had a bit of chain lightning with it. The Dragon grabbed hold of me and tossed me high up into the air while he dealt with the new person. I fought to stop spinning around, and tried to focus on how the hell I was going to survive yet another fall.

As I neared the ground, I shouted, _**"Wuld!"**_ and landed on my side. I ended up rolling for a bit on jagged rocks that cut deep into my flesh. I cried out in pain, but managed to get to my feet. It wasn't done yet.

Somehow, the Dragon had kept my companions at bay while he fought the newcomer. I quickly hurried to his aid. I didn't pay much attention to who he was, since I was mostly focused on the Dragon. I planted my foot firmly on a rock and leapt towards the Dragon. I missed, but I managed to land in-between Sahloknir and the newcomer.

_**"Fus Ro Dah!"**_ I shouted.

The fire that Sahloknir was about to spew was launched backwards into his mouth, searing whatever the fire hadn't come from. Sahloknir roared in agony and stumbled, his wounded wing slipping under the ice.

I took my chance and rolled under his head, and then stabbed my sword upwards. It entered his jaw and went directly into his brain, and so I rolled away before his head could squish me.

Amazingly, Sahloknir was still alive. Breathing hoarsely, the Dragon's grey eyes bored into mine. His eyes were defeated, and he was accepting it. I wondered if, when I died, I'd be able to do the same.

I pulled my sword out. The Dragon whined in pain, his tongue lolling out of his mouth.

"Aaz..." he begged. _**"Mercy..."**_

I dropped my sword and put a hand on his head. I think my hand was about as large as his eye. I almost expected Sahloknir to make one final snap at me, but he didn't. The Dragon just looked at me.

"Praan, Sahloknir. Boziik, mul Dovah. Sahrot paal. Praan." I gently stroked the Dragon's head. _**"Rest, Sahloknir. Bold, strong Dragon. Mighty foe. Rest."**_

Sahloknir looked confused for a minute. "Ah. The language of the dov. Hin Thu'um los mul. Med Britsaviikzii. _**Your Thu'um is strong. Like Britsaviikzii.**_" Sahloknir closed its eyes. "Balaan hokoron. _**Worthy enemy.**_"

He shuddered for only a moment before I picked up my blade again and gently ran it across his throat, killing him quickly. I didn't know why, but I felt saddened by Sahloknir's death. Like a friend had died. Sure, he was someone I didn't know, and he had attacked me, but I couldn't shake the feeling. And somehow, I also no longer felt just fear for the black Dragon named Alduin. I was angry at him. Just thinking about it made my grip tighten around my sword.

"Well, I can honestly say I've never seen that before." The man behind me was a Redguard, with black hair in cornrows and a thick black beard that would make any Nord proud. His eyes were dark, and seemed stern, but had some softness to them. He was probably in his thirties or fourties, from what I could see, and he was wearing a strange robe with fur lined into it. Easily, he was a Mage. "And I've been around for a while."

I blinked. "What're you doing here? Who are you?"

"Allow me to introduce myself..." The Mage bowed. "My name is Javin Kelco. I'm the Archmage of the College of Winterhold. As for why I'm here... Well, I heard that there was a Dragon spotted in this area, so I hurried to help, and possibly study it. These things are popping up everywhere in Skyrim, and yet finding them has been quite the bother!" He smirked. "Imagine my surprise to find not only a Dragon, but the Dragonborn!"

I rubbed the back of my head sheepishly, and realized that I was bleeding there as well as from the many cuts on my body. I probably looked like a mess.

"Erm... Well, follow me if you want. I need to find my companions and see if they're okay." I moved up the hill back to the burial mound, and Javin was indeed following me. I absently wondered if he was studying me like he'd wanted to study Sahloknir.

When I finally found them, Delphine's leg was being tended to by Aldren, Milos was rubbing salve on Hiemdall's arm from being burnt, and Milos himself had en extra cut that was likely to become a scar on his snout.

"Everyone still alive?" I asked, sitting beside Milos.

"Breathing," Aldren grumbled.

"Breathing!" Hiemdall announced with a grin.

"Fine," Delphine mumbled.

Milos grinned. "We're all alive. Who's the Mage?"

"Archmage Javin Kelco," the Redguard said, nodding to my companions. "Looks like you had fun."

"Join us next time," Milos said. "We get a lot of action here."

I crawled to the packs (which had been discarded during the battle) and looked for some bandages. I couldn't reach my back with a healing spell, and it'd be too much trouble to try, so some bandages would have to do.

"I can heal your wounds," the Archmage suggested suddenly.

"Y'know, that'd be—." I was rudely interrupted by Milos, who shook my shoulder urgently. "What?" I snapped.

"Remember the last time we killed a Dragon?" he asked carefully.

"Yeah... why?"

"Remember the orange cloud?"

I cursed harshly. "You've gotta be kidding me! I hope its like when the Greybeards were teaching me, and not like _that_! Maybe it was a one-time thing!"

I looked at Sahloknir's body. It was already becoming part of the orange cloud. I could see Aldren's dagger fall from Sahloknir's tail as the flesh disappeared. Finally, Sahloknir was only bone, and the orange cloud hovered over his bones.

And then, it shot towards me. Like before with Milos, it passed through Javin and slammed hard inside of me. And just like before, I was blasted backwards, overtop the rocks and several yards away into a snowbank. I felt like my body had caught fire, and when it was over, the snow around me had melted.

"Brilliant," I groaned. "So it wasn't a one-time thing... Thanks, Divines. I wonder if I run away from those clouds that it'll be less painful...?"

I got to my feet and returned to my companions after carefully finding my way down the rocks. Milos grinned at me.

"Nice hang time," he commented.

"Javin, can you please heal me up? I think I may have widened a few of the wounds with the fall."

He nodded and stepped behind me, then chanted a healing spell and put his hands on my back. I was extremely thankful that someone like him had come along.

"I... It's true, isn't it?" Delphine asked finally. "You really are Dragonborn." She snorted. "I owe you some answers, don't I? Go ahead. Whatever you want to know. Nothing held back."

I got my first question in a snap. "Who are you and what do you want with me?"

"I'm one of the last members of the Blades." Delphine smiled thinly. "A very long time ago, the Blades were Dragonslayers, and we served the Dragonborn, the greatest Dragonslayer. For the last two hundred years, since the last Dragonborn emperor, the Blades have been searching for a purpose. Now that Dragons are coming back, our purpose is clear again. We need to stop them."

Of course I knew about the Blades. Who didn't? Every child in Cyrodiil knew about them. The former sworn protectors of the emperor, until the last, Martin Septim, died defending Tamriel from Mehrunes Dagon. And then the Penitus Oculatus took over, since the Blades hadn't fulfilled their duty as the emperor's bodyguards. That was when even the Hero of Kvatch couldn't stop Dagon.

"What's our next move?" I asked.

"The first thing we need to do is figure out who's behind the Dragons." Delphine tapped her chin. "The Thalmor are our best lead. If they aren't involved, they'll know who is."

"Remind me... who are the Thalmor?" Aldren asked. "I haven't been listening to the world's events for a long time."

"The faction that rules the Aldmeri Dominion," she explained. "The ones who almost destroyed the Empire during the Great War, thirty years back. There's no worse enemy to humankind in Tamriel. The Empire barely survived the last war. The Thalmor don't intend to lose the next one."

"Why are the Thalmor after you?" I pressed, remembering her comment about "old enemies" back in Riverwood.

"Before the Great War, the Blades helped the Empire against the Thalmor. Our Grand Master saw them as the greatest threat to Tamriel. At the time, that was true. Maybe it still is. So we fought them in the shadows, all across Tamriel. We thought we were more than a match for them. We were wrong."

"And what makes you think the Thalmor are bringing Dragons back?"

Delphine frowned. "Nothing solid. Yet. But my gut tells me it can't be anybody else. The Empire had captured Ulfric. The war was basically over. Then a Dragon attacks, Ulfric escapes, and the war is back on. And now the Dragons are attacking everywhere, indiscriminately. Skyrim is weakened, the Empire is weakened." She narrowed her eyes. "Who else gains from that but the Thalmor?"

"That means we need to find out what the Thalmor know about the Dragons," Milos observed.

"Any ideas?" I asked.

"If we could get into the Thalmor Embassy... it's the centre of their operations in Skyrim... Problem is, that place is locked up tighter than a miser's purse. They could teach _me_ a few things about paranioa..."

"So how do we get into the Thalmor Embassy?" I pressed.

She looked thoughtful, and then shook her head. "I'm not sure yet," Delphine admitted. "I have a few ideas, but I'll need some time to pull things together... Meet me back in Riverwood. If I'm not back when you get there, wait for me. I shouldn't be long." Delphine stood up painfully. Javin quickly walked over and healed her leg, so there was only a slight limp. She thanked him and then looked at me again. "Keep an eye on the sky. This is only going to get worse."

Delphine walked off, picking up her curved blade as she left. I had to admit that seeing her leave wasn't making me very upset at all.

"Hey, what did you say to the Dragon?" Javin asked, intrigued. "And what did it say back?"

"You spoke to it?" Milos repeated.

I nodded slowly. "I... Well, I don't know why, but seeing Sahloknir like that just..." I quickly shook my head and patted my cheeks, reddening them to make them warmer against the cold. "Even though he attacked us, I just felt sad to see him in pain. So I told him that he was a strong enemy and to rest."

"And...?" Javin made his hand go in a circular motion to help me along.

"He said that we were worthy enemies and that my Voice was strong. That was it."

Milos leaned back, finished with the salve. "So when'd you start to speak the language?"

"Since I could understand it, I guess," I said, shrugging. "I don't really know. It's hard to know since so much has changed within... what? Two weeks?"

Milos nodded. "Well, what're we going to do?"

"What d'you mean?"

"We can either go back to Riverwood and do what Delphine wants, or we could leave. We could do our own thing for a bit."

I hung my head and held it in my hands. Gods, that sounded _great_, but...

"We can't," I groaned. "We just can't. Dragons are coming back to life, and if that black Dragon keeps resurrecting them, no matter where we go, it'll catch up with us eventually."

"Or I will first," Aldren added.

"Or _he_ will," I agreed. "Maybe we can do something to help, at least for a bit. We should play along with Delphine for a while longer, and then we can figure out what our next move's going to be."

Milos was silent for a moment. "You just want to see if you can kill some Thalmor, don't you?"

I grinned. "No, but that sounds great too."

Javin stood up and wiped his hands on a cloth. "Well, whatever you decide, I have a request—."

"You want to come with us," I concluded swiftly.

"Your powers of perception are envious." Javin smiled. "Yes, I wish to accompany you. I want to study Dragons, and what better way to do that than with the Dragonborn? Besides, you saved my life. If you hadn't Shouted at that Dragon when you did, I would be nothing but charred feet. And as the Archmage, I can use my connections within the College to aid us when we need it."

I shrugged and extended my hand. "Sure. Welcome aboard." When Javin grasped my hand and shook it, I smiled. "I'm Taryn Greystone."

"Hides-His-Heart," Milos said. "Milos to my friends."

"Hiemdall Jorganson, Companion."

"Aldren Ebor. I'm an assassin."

"Lovely to meet you all." Javin nodded to us and released my hand. "So, how much do you know about being Dragonborn, Taryn?"

I pursed my lips. "Well... Not much."

"During our trip, I'll do my best to inform you of what I know," Javin assured me. "I used to be a scholar and historian before I was Archmage. I admit, I miss teaching the younger Mages about all things to do with magicka and the history around the Nirn and Tamriel."

I gulped. "Perhaps we could just learn about Dragonborns instead?"

Javin nodded after only a moment of consideration. "Yes, of course. Anyway, where is your wagon?"

"We don't have one," Aldren growled. He was definitely annoyed about how talkative Javin was being.

"Well, that won't do!" Javin tapped his chin. "Young man! Hiemdall, you said your name was, yes? Come with me. We'll walk to Windhelm and purchase a ride to Riverwood. I can buy some parchment and a quill and send a letter to my fellow magisters to let them know that I will not be returning for some time. Now, if you would? I can fix that arm up while we're walking."

Hiemdall looked at me, shrugged, and stood up. "Okay, Beardsy. Let's go."

"I assure you, my name is Javin Kelco. Not 'Beardsy'."

"I give people nicknames," Hiemdall admitted. "So, in my mind, they have different names."

"Then what are everyone else's names?" Javin insisted.

Hiemdall pointed to Aldren. "Stabby." To Milos: "Milos." _How original,_ I thought. "Lizard-girl."

"Stop calling me that!" I snapped, pointing accusingly. "You called me that when we were looking for that stupid horn!"

"Am I wrong?" he asked, shrugging. "C'mon, Beardsy. We should go find a wagon."

I suddenly regretted that Hiemdall didn't have fur, so I couldn't set it on fire. I frowned and got to my feet, and stuck my tongue out as the two were walking away.

"How mature," Aldren said sarcastically. "Worthy of the title of 'Dragonborn', surely."

"If you want it, you can have it," I grumbled. "Well, let's wait for a bit. I have a feeling that they won't be back for—."

"Hey! Hiemdall!" Milos ran to the cliff and looked down at the Mage and the Nord. He tossed his coin purse off of the cliff. "Buy us some food too, okay?"

"Got it!" Hiemdall yelled back.

I sighed. "Well, now they won't be back for a while." I hesitated. "Why didn't you just go with them to sell the crap we've picked up?"

"I figured I could sell it at the Riverwood Trader..." Milos smirked. "I want to see if a certain Imperial is still interested."

I think I heard Aldren gagging from where he was sitting. I think I wanted to do the same.


	18. Planning a Heist

Chapter Seventeen:

Planning a Heist

Within the next two hours, we were in the wagon and on the road. Having another companion along somehow made me really happy... and talkative. Very talkative. I guess, when new kids would come to the orphanage in Anvil, I'd talk as much as I could with them to make them feel welcome. Except Javin wasn't a kid and we weren't in an orphanage.

I'd told him about the Dragon attack at Helgen (refraining from telling about my own experience to get to Skyrim) and our journey to Whiterun, and then Milos took it from there and told about the Greybeards, our wild goose chase for the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller, and our return to High Hrothgar after finally retrieving it. Needless to say, we had Javin's full attention whenever we mentioned anything to do with Dragons.

"So tell me, Taryn, do you feel any different when you devour a Dragon's soul?" Javin asked.

I blinked. "Look, I don't eat the damn things. I _absorb_ them. Not _devour_. And yeah, sometimes I feel different. I mean, when it goes inside me, I feel like I'm on fire, and then it just disappears. But when I absorb a soul, I get their knowledge of Shouts, and I can use new ones."

"Didn't we find one you could use in Ustengrav?" Milos asked.

I nodded. "Yeah, I guess we did."

"Would you please demonstrate this new Shout?" Javin asked, leaning forward in his seat.

_By the Nine, this guy makes me feel like I'm a sideshow attraction._ I bit my lip. "I can try."

The word I'd found on the Word Wall was "Fade", and if I remembered correctly, its word for the Dragons was "Feim". I wondered what it'd do.

_**"Feim!"**_ I whispered, hoping I wouldn't do any damage. It felt like nothing happened, so I sighed.

And fell through the wagon.

I hit my back against the jagged cobblestones encased in ice, but I didn't feel a thing. Hell, I'd even braced myself for the pain to come, but nothing had happened. Confused, I sat up. Firstly, I shouldn't even have fallen through the wagon. Secondly, I definitely should've felt something from the fall. I didn't really think there was a "thirdly".

"Hey! Taryn!" Milos was beckoning me quickly, since the wagon was still going. "Hurry up!"

I got to my feet and sprinted after the wagon, slipping on the ice but managing to keep myself on my feet. I quickly climbed into the wagon and took my seat back, frowning.

"What happened?" I asked.

"It was fascinating!" Javin exclaimed before Milos could say anything. "For a moment, you almost disappeared! I could see the outlines of your armour and your face, but you had mostly disappeared! And then you fell through the wagon!"

"Yeah, I remember _that_ part." I tapped my chin thoughtfully. "I think I was... etheral..."

"That'd make sense." Milos grinned. "That means if any Dragons try to attack us again, you just have to become etheral and they can't touch you."

"But it may work both ways," I reasoned. "No one would touch me, and I can't touch anyone."

Javin shrugged. "That's plausable. Now, I promised to tell you what I knew about being Dragonborn, yes?" When I nodded, Javin reached into his robe. I cringed. "Oh, don't look at me like that! I have pockets!" He pulled out a book with Akatosh on its cover, in the exact way he was on the Empire's banners, only it was silver with a black background. The book itself looked older than Javin.

"And how in Oblivion did you just _happen_ to bring this book?" I asked as I examined its cover. It was called, "The Book of the Dragonborn".

"I hoped to run into you, honestly." Javin pointed to the book. "Skyrim legends are fascinating, but none so much as that of the Dragonborn. Surely you know the tale of St. Alessia and Akatosh? The Dragon God of Time took pity on the plight of men and drew precious blood from his own heart, bestowing it upon St. Alessia. As long as she and her heirs wore the Amulet of Kings (the artifact that was created upon Akatosh drawing his own blood) and remained true to the blood of Dragons, Akatosh would keep sealed the gates of Oblivion and deny the Ayleids their armies.

"Of course, that meant that those with the blood and soul of Dragons would only be allowed to wear the Amulet of Kings. However, the amulet was lost during the Interregnum, but it was reclaimed by Tiber Septim. Some say that Tiber Septim was not, in fact, related to St. Alessia at all, and only because he was Dragonborn was he able to wear the Amulet of Kings. While it is possible, I find that Akatosh mentioning that if she _and_ her heirs wore the amulet is evidence of his ancestry. But that's just my opinion." Javin rubbed his chin. "Dragonborns are rarely in the same century as others, and even then only slaying a Dragon will awaken their dormant abilities. Dragonborns can master Shouts faster than those who don't have the soul of a Dragon, making them superior warriors and Dragonslayers."

I put the book down beside me. "Have they ever appeared in the same century?" I asked.

"Yes, of course! The Septims!" Javin was gesturing excitedly. "They shared the Dragon Blood. Each heir did! Even Uriel Septim VII and Martin Septim! How else could Martin have used the Amulet of Kings to become an avatar of Akatosh to banish Mehrunes Dagon back to Oblivion?"

I picked the book up again and flipped through the pages, stopping on a random one to read. It detailed what the author said was, "The Prophecy of the Dragonborn".

_"When misrule takes its place at the eight corners of the world; When the Brass Tower walks and Time is reshaped; When the thrice-blessed fail and the Red Tower Trembles; When the Dragonborn Ruler loses his throne, and the White Tower falls; When the Snow Tower lies sundered, kingless, bleeding; The World-Eater wakes, and the Wheel turns upon the Last Dragonborn."_

A few seemed familiar, but I hoped I wasn't the "last Dragonborn" mentioned at the end. At the very least, I had something to look at. I mean, I'd really just prefer a book where I could read and not be reminded about _everything_ (a.k.a. my current life).

Luckily, we were in Riverwood sooner than I'd expected. When we dismounted the wagon, I saw Alvor and waved to him. He waved back, but I think he was surprised by our new companions.

Delphine was waiting outside of the Sleeping Giant Inn, sitting on the bench next to Dorthe, Alvor's daughter. I said "Hello" to her, and then Delphine led us inside.

"I don't think you were followed," she said. "Come on. I have a plan."

We followed her into her secret room, taking care that no one would notice us all go inside. Delphine frowned when we all managed to file into the tiny room, and then she regarded me plainly.

"I've figured out how we're going to get you intothe Thalmor Embassy," she told me.

I blinked. "That didn't take long."

"I've been doing this a long time, remember? While the Thalmor's been looking for me, I've been watching them."

"So what's your plan?" I persisted. "How do we infiltrate the Thalmor Embassy?"

Delphine frowned and narrowed her eyes. "I said I'd figured out a way for _you_ to get in. My plan isn't going to work _at all_ if everyone goes. You'll have to do this by yourself."

"No she isn't!" Milos interjected. "She's not going if she has to go alone!"

I sighed. "I can't bring _anyone_?"

"Let me tell my plan first," she reasoned, "and then we can argue. The Thalmor ambassador, Elenwen, regularily throws parties where the rich and connected cozy up to the Thalmor. I can get you into one of those parties. Once you're inside the Embassy, you get away and find Elenwen's secret files. I have a contact inside the Embassy. He's not up for this kind of high-risk mission, but he can help you. His name is Malborn. Wood Elf, plenty of reason to hate the Thalmor. You can trust him." Delphine crossed her arms. "I'll get word for him to meet you in Solitude, at the Winking Skeever—you know it?" I shook my head, but Delphine continued. "While you're doing that, I'll work on getting you an invitation to Elenwen's little party. Meet me at the Solitude stables after you've arranged things with Malborn. Any questions?"

I didn't really have any. She'd covered most of my concerns, and I was sure she'd tell me more later in Solitude... If I got there in one piece, considering I didn't know where it was.

"I'll see you in Solitude after I meet Malborn," I replied.

"Sounds good." Delphine went up to the steps of the secret room and looked back at me. "Be careful," she added, and then ascended the steps.

"You're not going alone," Milos declared, crossing his arms. "You're not."

"I have to," I muttered. "This is the only way the plan's going to work. If the Thalmor are behind the Dragons, then I'll get more of a reason to hate them and not feel guilty if I kill one of them. Besides," I said, smirking, "there may be something there that I can check... But I'll need to be alone to try finding it."

Milos' brow furrowed. "Taryn, what happened in Cyrodiil? What happened with Arnand Beinne and the Thalmor?"

I avoided Milos' stare and looked at the wall. "I... don't want to talk about it."

"You'll have to eventually, Taryn. Whatever happened, it's going to catch up with you." Milos frowned. "And when it does, someone's gonna get hurt. Maybe it'll be someone innocent. How'd you feel if that happened?"

I felt my anger rise up. I clenched my fists tightly and looked at Milos. "How do you think I'd feel, Milos? You know me best! How do you think I'd react to someone getting hurt because of me?" My voice was rising with my temper, but I didn't know it. It just felt like someone had opened a jar, and everything was spilling out. "I can't protect everyone! I tried my best, Milos! I did the best I could! But that made me see only the small frame of the big picture! It got someone hurt! So yeah, I've already gone through that, thanks!"

Hiemdall put his arm in-between Milos and I. "Erm, maybe you guys should just—."

"Shut up!" Milos and I snapped.

Hiemdall backed-off quickly. I didn't know why, but my vision was blurring, and that feeling I'd gotten back in the Jorrvaskr was returning. I ignored it, refusing to show a weakness in an argument. Especially to Milos.

"And so you ran away!" Milos accused. "You ran away! You gave up!"

"What the hell was I supposed to do? You were nowhere! In the last five years, you weren't there! For me to go to the Thalmor Embassy alone would make no difference! And the letters you sent... do you know how few of them there really were? I couldn't even talk to my best friend properly!" My nails were drawing blood in my hand. I wondered if anyone else had noticed, and hoped they didn't. "Where were you, who always acted as my conscience, when I really needed you?"

"I only ever voiced my opinion! You were the one who always made the decisions! I always followed you, because you were someone worth following!"

"So why are you following me now?" I roared. "If I was so great back then, why... why even bother? I screwed up, Milos. I know I did. But... I didn't know what to do. I do my best, but that doesn't mean I'm the greatest." I hung my head, letting my fists relax. I could practically taste the metallic blood rising up in my throat, but I forced it down. _Not now! Not right now! _

Milos looked at the ground. I wanted him to say something—_anything_—that'd help. I admit, if I hadn't been tied up back in Helgen and we weren't in a bad situation, I would have strangled him then and there. I understood that he needed to find out about his parents, but why did he have to leave without a good-bye? Would it have hurt any less when I found his empty bed the next morning? Looking at him now, it was like he'd grown up without me. Where'd he get those scars on his face? How'd he get so big, as opposed to the scrawny little lizard I'd known five years ago?

"But did you do the right thing?" Milos finally asked. "Whatever happened, did you do the right thing?"

"I thought I did," I admitted quietly. "Now... I'm not so sure."

He looked like he was going to say something. Maybe something conclusive. Whatever it was, he didn't get it out of his mouth fast enough. The blood came up too quickly.

My hand covered my mouth as soon as I realized it was going to happen, just like back in the Jorrvaskr. The next thing I knew, I was doubled-up on the floor, retching blood like no tomorrow. The amount coming out... I didn't think there was going to _be_ a "tomorrow".

Everything happened so fast then. Aldren fled the secret room, covering his mouth. Javin was swiftly ordering Milos around, telling him to lay me on my side and hold me there. I guess I was thrashing around, as if my muscles were spazzing. Hiemdall quickly sprinted out of the secret room, closing the door behind him. I think Milos had asked him to go to Whiterun.

My vision was a blur of red, and that wasn't just because of the blood. I could feel myself fading out, but I hadn't Shouted. I felt so detatched, so weak. I'd never felt more alone since Milos had left. Strange though. Milos was there with me, and so was Javin, who was looking at the bookshelf laden with alchemical ingredients.

"Just a quick tonic for now," I heard Javin say. "It should give Hiemdall enough time."

_Time?_ I wondered. _Time for what? Whiterun... Maybe he was going to ask Kodlak for that medicine he used before?_

"Get her onto her back and tip her head forward," Javin ordered. "Blood comes out of her mouth every ten-to-thirteen seconds. I need to get her to swallow this when she isn't drowning in blood, so be careful."

Javin timed it and managed to get the tonic in at a good time. Milos shut my mouth and tipped my head back, forcing me to swallow. It was good, and it helped.

At first.

Perhaps I was allergic to something inside of the tonic, because the next thing I knew I was screaming in pain. It hurt so much! It felt like my throat was being scraped from the inside as it was going down. And when it was in my stomach... Well, it wasn't in my stomach for long.

"Well, that didn't work." Milos laid me on my side again. "Any other ideas?"

"Keep her alive," Javin answered simply. "Keep her breathing until Hiemdall returns. Two hours, at most."

It was going to be a _long_ two hours.


	19. Time Moves Slowly

Chapter Eighteen:

Time Moves Slowly

I was right. Those two hours were the longest of my life. Between retching up blood and the muscle spasms, I was completely occupied. And I was awake during every second of the pain.

Milos was still holding me down, but I'd still managed to hurt myself a few times on the table when he couldn't hold me. Javin was creating all sorts of other tonics, but in the end he would scoff and toss them against a wall, sure it wouldn't work. Aldren was standing guard outside of the door to the room to stop anyone who was curious enough to come near. He refused to come into the room where I was slowly bleeding to death.

Death? Divines, it probably _was_ that. But I didn't feel cold. In fact, it felt more like I was burning. It wasn't like absorbing a Dragon's soul, where I would feel like I was on fire temporarily, and then suddenly feel well enough to get on my feet. No… It was a lasting heat that was ripping my muscles apart and burning me from the inside out.

I couldn't close my eyes like last time, either. In the Jorrvaskr, I had felt so weak that it was impossible to keep them open, regardless of the pain. Now they were wide open, thought anything but aware. I could catch the odd word, but I was too focused on being on the brink of death, thank-you very much.

Two ungodly hours passed before I heard raspy breathing come closer. I wasn't sure if I was just becoming aware of my own breathing, but the look on Javin's face told me otherwise.

"Sorry… I'm late!" Hiemdall gasped. "Here!"

Javin took a small vial in his hands and examined it quickly. "What is this?"

"It'll help!" the young Nord insisted.

Javin opened his mouth, but a look from Milos told him to shut it. Shrugging, the Redgaurd got Milos to lay me on my back. He carefully tipped the contents in while making sure no more of my blood would get onto his robes. I had to help to force it down. I didn't want to die so soon. Twenty years, for me, wasn't enough yet. And if I had to fight for it, by the Nine, I'd even go kicking and screaming!

My heart started beating faster and faster, until I was having trouble breathing. My hand shot to my chest and I grabbed onto my bloody novice robes as tightly as I could, as if I could force my heart to slow. My magicka wasn't listening to me as I tried to heal myself. I was _pathetic_.

And then my heart slowed. The fire died out, and I stopped moving. I grinned as the pain left, and I finally got to close my eyes in relief.

"What'd you put in this so-called 'tonic' of yours, Beardsy?" I heard Hiemdall ask.

"Basic elements of alchemy. It hadn't failed me until today. I suppose she'll need quite a bit of rest now," Javin said, "considering the amount of blood she lost."

"From what I've seen, this room looks like a massacre and a tornado were having a party," Aldren said from up the stairs. "Javin, what you gave her earlier should have killed her, easily. It's a miracle she made it _one_ hour without whatever that dog brought, on top of your 'tonic'. _Two hours_… She's hard to kill, it seems."

"Well, she used to say she was lucky," Milos grumbled. "Aldren, get two rooms. She's going to need the sleep. I'll come back and clean up. I don't think Delphine is going to like her room like this."

"I'll help!" Hiemdall volunteered.

And that was the last I heard. I was so relieved to feel numb as a tree, my body relaxed, being able to breathe normally… I wasn't taking that for granted, that was for damn sure. Milos had taken me straight to one of the rooms he'd just rented and closed the door. I fell asleep instantly, somehow comforted by the gigantic Argonian who was taking care of me… who had sworn when he was young to protect me, even though it was sometimes him who needed it. We definitely had some issues to sort out.

_"Britsaviikzii!" _

_ The giant black Dragon beat his wings above the snowy ground, sending plumes of the tiny cold icicles everywhere in his wake. He landed on the ground and growled, his red eyes narrowing and his neck rising high above the ground._

_ A younger Dragon bowed her head automatically. Alduin's presence shot fear through her heart, but neither respect nor admiration. In truth, her head was only bowed out of habit, and when she raised it so it nearly met his, he snapped at her with his teeth._

_ "Britsaviikzii!" Alduin repeated, his voice thundering. "You are a traitor to our kind! To all Dragons! Sahloknir has revealed to me your treachery! What say you?"_

_ The younger Dragon, Britsaviikzii, bared her teeth and growled. "Traitor to Dragons, indeed! If it makes me a traitor to oppose you, Alduin, then so be it! We need those who live on this land! You would have them all killed! Mortals need to live to keep us in balance, Alduin!"_

_ Alduin snapped at her, nearly catching her neck in his teeth. "Stupid child! You are barely a hatchling! What would you know? I am the son of Akatosh!"_

_ "And my father is your brother!" Britsaviikzii roared. _

_ "Enough of this!" Alduin snapped his wings outward and took to the skies. "You dare defend the Mortals? Then you shall die like one!"_

_ The black Dragon descended and sank his claws deep into the younger Dragon's hide. She roared in pain and bit at Alduin, clipping one of the many spikes on his body. She snapped it off, and Alduin clamped his teeth around her neck. _

I shot up out of the bed, and then painfully laid back down. Breathing hard, I moved my fingers carefully to make sure all were in working order, then my toes, and then I moved on to the limbs themselves. I clenched a fist, but it was weak, and ended up loosening quicker than I'd hoped. I sighed and slowly rubbed my eyes.

I felt bad for arguing with Milos, but… He didn't know what I'd gone through. And if I could help it, he'd never find out. It was selfish of me, but that was the point of crossing the border. Escaping the old life and making a new one.

Milos carefully opened the door, though with some difficulty since he was carrying plates of food inside with him and they were balancing precariously on his arms.

"I'm awake," I told him. "No point in trying to keep quiet."

He kicked the door open, slamming it against the wall, and then nudged it closed as he entered. He had a sheepish smile on his face.

"Well, as long as I didn't wake you." Milos placed the plates on the end table and sat on my bed. "Feeling better?"

I nodded. "How long was I out?"

"Two days," he answered. "I sent word to Delphine that you weren't feeling well. With luck, she received it without any problems."

I put a hand on my forehead. "How bad was it?"

"You want it easy or straight?"

"Straight."

Milos sighed and fingered one of the horns on his head. "Taryn, from what Aldren told me, the amount of blood you lost…"

I groaned. "Just say it."

"Honestly, you should be dead. Six feet under and drinking in Sovngarde. I'm taking his word for it, since I'm sure he sent a considerable amount of people to wherever the Eight deem to send us when we die." Milos stopped fiddling with his horns and looked seriously at me. "Don't get me wrong; I'm thrilled that you're alive. But we need to figure out what's going on."

I nodded slowly, taking it in. Maybe I _was_ allergic to Dragon souls… _Well, that'd be incredibly inconvinient. Both times I reacted the way I did, I absorbed a Dragon's soul within a few hours…_

"Maybe I'm allergic to Dragon souls?" I suggested.

"That's like saying you're allergic to magicka," Milos grumbled. He rubbed his eyes slowly. "I haven't got any ideas. Hiemdall says he suspects something, but he's refusing to tell me about it. He says he 'doesn't have enough evidence'."

"He didn't strike me as the investigative type."

Milos snorted, as if he agreed, and then pointed to the food he'd brought in. "Hungry?"

"Starving, but not strong enough to eat yet," I admitted.

"Then I'll—."

"Spoon-feed me and I'll find the strength to ring your neck!"

Milos shot me a toothy grin. "Okay, but how 'bout I help you sit up?"

I agreed to that. Milos carefully slid an arm under my back and helped me up, though I did my best to make it easier on him. _Pathetic_. That stupid word was echoing in my head just like it had two days ago, when I'd tried to summon my magicka to help. I didn't feel like, well, _me_ anymore. Stronger than I'd wished, and weaker than I'd hoped for. I felt like "Taryn the Dragonborn" was about to become the dominant thing in my life, and yet "Taryn the Ill" was making her debut.

Why _blood_? Why couldn't I just have a cold? I rarely got sick as it was, and now I was reacting to something I shouldn't! And whatever it was… Well, I had a feeling that if it ever happened again, we wouldn't be just two hours away from Whiterun.

"Hiemdall _did_ grab more of that stuff," Milos said as if he'd been reading my mind. "I wish he'd just tell us what it is. I don't want it to be some sort of drug that you'll be hooked on."

"Hey, it worked, didn't it?" I chuckled, forcing a smile. "I… don't really care what's in it."

Milos clasped his hands together and sighed. "Taryn, I'm… I'm really sorry. I shouldn't have brought Cyrodiil up. I should have trusted you more and been a little bit patient."

My smile faded as I remembered our argument. Milos hadn't trusted me to be on my own—. No, he'd just been concerned about me. He knew about the toll being Dragonborn was taking on me. I could do things that I'd never even dreamed of, even when I was young and the kids at the orphanage took turns "defeating" Mehrunes Dagon and summoning the avatar of Akatosh.

"Don't worry about it," I said automatically.

"But I _am_ worrying." Milos' reptillian eyes examined me quickly. "Hard not to. I was gone for five years, wondering if I'd ever find the answers about my parents. I was selfish leaving you behind. I should have brought you along, and we could've looked together—."

"They were _your_ parents," I interrupted swiftly, "not mine."

He nodded slowly. "I'm… sorry. Five years was too long."

It seemed I had enough strength to clench the sheets of the bed. I sighed, suddenly aware of the silence between us. A silence I didn't like at all. To some, the silence would seem like just that—silence. But to us… to two best friends who grew up under the circumstances we did… the silence was a huge field in-between us. We'd have to work to walk back to each other.

I decided to take the first step. "You needed those five years. It's not like we can go back and change anything. And you found the answers you wanted, right? So it's fine, Milos. It's fine."

He smirked and put a hand on my head, ruffling my hair. "What happened to the little rebel from Anvil? You sound like a priest now."

"Oh, _please_. I gave those priests a run for their money shortly before I left Cyrodiil! They won't forget me any time soon!"

Milos removed his hand and then stood up, stretching, then grabbed a plate of food. "So, about my parents…" He cleared his throat, as if he was uncertain about telling me. "It turns out they _were_ diseased with something."

"That sucks," I said. "Is there any real good news?"

He shook his head. "Only that they're dead and it's over with. Oh, and I didn't get what they had."

I grabbed a plate of food (cooked rabbit haunch and vegetables) and carefully nibbled at the contents. "Do you know what with?"

Milos picked at his food, once more uncertain of revealing anything. Who could blame him? I didn't want to talk about what happened in Cyrodiil. If he wanted to get even, now would be the time.

"They were Werecrocodiles," he said simply, taking a bite out of his rabbit. "Argonians are immune to most diseases, but that seems to be the exception with all the 'Were-creatures' around Tamriel. Shortly before they were killed, they were bitten, but they didn't get me. I guess I should be thankful for the Shadowscales that had been sent after them, but they were my parents."

I smiled and put a hand on Milos' shoulder. "Don't worry about it. What matters is that your parents loved you, even when they were faced with that."

He nodded. It seemed like a weight had been taken off of his shoulders. Was he really that terrified that I'd judge him, based on what his parents had become? Man, he was right. Five years _was_ too long.

"Coming to Skyrim and seeing you again got me thinking, Taryn," he admitted. "You told me once that a man with a grey beard dropped you off in Anvil. Did you ever wonder if it had been the Greybeards themselves who did it?"

I blinked, taken by surprise. The Greybeards? They wouldn't go all the way to Anvil just to drop me off, would they? If they'd known I was Dragonborn, I would have grown up with them, saving time. If I wasn't… why even bother?

"Why would solitary monks go all the way to Anvil just to get rid of me?" I inquired. "I mean, there are closer places, easier ways… For them to do it personally? I don't think so."

Milos shrugged. "I just thought that it made a bit of sense."

"I mean, it kind of does, but the puzzle pieces need to fit, right?"

He furrowed his brow, and then pointed at my plate. "Good thing I brought extra," he said. "Hiemdall told me to, just-in-case."

I looked at my plate. It was clean, with no remaining food. I was surprised, having not even noticed how ravenous I was. I guess emptying the contents of one's stomach and losing enough blood to make it seem like a massacre could do that.

I grinned. "More please."


	20. Party Animal

Chapter Nineteen:

Party Animal

Milos eventually agreed that I could go to Solitude alone, but I had to spend two more days in Riverwood to make sure I was healthy. I left my rag-tag group early one morning after saying a good-bye the previous night to each of them. Unfortunately, since the novice robes I'd been wearing were covered in dried blood and, sadly, the only garments I had, I decided to stop in Whiterun to buy some new clothes and supplies I may need.

I stopped in a place called "Warmaiden's" for new clothes, and ended up buying a set of new leather armour (complete with a hood) with my hard-earned coin (from robbing old Nord graves. Then again, their occupants had attacked me), and trashing the novice robes.

I hired a wagon to Solitude after I bought some bread from a vendor and patiently watched the scenery of Skyrim on the way. No matter where I was, I could see the Throat of the World. I wondered what could make someone dislike people so much that they'd live at its summit. Paarthurnax was old, there was no doubt, but did he have to be a hermit? Just what did he lack to come into society?

I sighed. What could I do to meet Paarthurnax? Growing a beard was out of the question, though Javin could probably get us all access from _his_ beard.

"Why would anyone want to become a Greybeard anyway...?" I wondered aloud.

"Maybe to harness that power they have," the driver replied, to make conversation. "Their Voice and whatnot. I don't know a Nord who doesn't wish to meet the Greybeards and learn such a thing." The driver chuckled. "You know, my son believes he could be the Dragonborn that they're looking for."

I grinned. "Well, I feel sorry for your son. They've already found the Dragonborn."

"Poor sod." The driver turned to look at me, trusting in his horse to follow the road. "I feel sorry for anyone who _is_ Dragonborn. They attract nothing but trouble. Look at the Emperors before the Oblivion Crisis! Misfortune runs in their blood, just like the blood of Dragons!"

"You know a bit about Dragonborns?"

"I know what my pa told me when I was a lad," the driver answered. "Men born with the soul of a Dragon. Therefore, the blood of Dragons runs in their veins. Course, the Dragon whose soul the Dragonborn is born with has died once before. My pa said that this is how Dragons can recognize a Dragonborn. Not just because they can Shout, but because they recognize the soul of the Dragon that Shouts in Mortal form."

I blinked, surprised. It was a new insight for me, and definitely an interesting one. _Great, so technically, I've lived a life before this. You'd think the Nine would cut me some slack..._

"But that's just what I learned as a lad. I'm sure that the Greybeards would know the truth and tell the Dragonborn."

"I guess the Dragonborn will have to ask the Greybeards to learn something like that," I said.

"Its more polite to ask, sometimes, than wait to be told."

Needless to say, I tipped the driver.

We passed through a smaller settlement called Shor's Stone before reaching Solitude not an hour later. As the capital of Skyrim, it was as imposing as I'd expected it to be.

_Well, now I've been from one corner of Skyrim to the other. _I couldn't remember who was the Jarl of Solitude, but I knew that it was on the Empire's side, so there'd be a large Imperial presence here. I hoped that none of the soldiers here would recognize me from Helgen.

"That was, like, weeks ago," I mumbled absently, glancing at the guards at the gate. "It's not like they know I'm even alive..."

I got into Solitude without a problem. The Winking Skeever wasn't hard to spot, since it was immediately left of the gates, but it was what was immediately to the right of the gates that caught my attention.

"They can't hurt uncle Roggvir," a little girl told her father, gesturing to a man on an elevated stone stage, whose hands were bound behind his back. "Tell them he didn't do it."

"Svari, you need to go home. Go home and stay there until your mother comes," her father replied silently.

A woman passing by towards the elevated stone pedestal frowned. "You should tell her that her uncle is scum that betrayed the High King. Best she know now, Addvar."

"You're all heart, Vivienne," Addvar growled as Svari ran off.

Two other men were standing on the stage with Roggvir, one with a gigantic axe and iron armour similar to Milos'. The other was wearing the red regailia of a guard of Solitude, but no helm.

"Roggvir." The guard's voice didn't exactly boom, but it was carrying. "You helped Ulfric Stormcloak escape this city after he murdered High King Torygg. By opening that gate for Ulfric you betrayed the people of Solitude."

"There was no murder!" Roggvir said calmly to the crowd of people watching. "Ulfric challenged Torygg. He beat the High King in fair combat—."

"Traitor!" someone from the crowd cried.

"Liar!" yelled another.

"He doesn't deserve to speak!"

"Such is our way! Such is the ancient custom of Skyrim, and all Nords!" Roggvir continued, undaunted.

"Booooo!" the crowd cried in unison.

The guard stepped behind Roggvir and pushed him to his knees in front of a chopping block, and then planted his foot on Roggvir's back. Roggvir's eyes scanned the executioner's blade, and then they closed.

"On this day... I go to Sovngarde," he whispered.

The executioner's axe slammed down onto Roggvir's neck, severing his head from his body. His neck showered blood onto the front of the crowd as his head rolled on the ground, and despite the gruesome scene, people cheered. All except for Addvar. I felt sorry for him, his wife, and his daughter, Svari.

I rubbed my eyes, remembering the scene at Helgen before the Dragon attack. My fingers brushed the scar on my eye. I'd almost forgotten it was there. Courtesy of a rock thrown by a Thalmor, it reached upwards to my temple, and just barely beneath my eye. I was lucky it didn't do any damage to my eyesight.

I entered the Winking Skeever silently while the crowd dispersed. It was quaint and very good-looking for an inn, and there was a woman playing a flute as I entered who seemed to occupied in her music to pay me any notice. Since everyone but the bard and the innkeeper were attending the execution, I supposed that Delphine's contact, Malborn, would be here as well, and therefore easy to find. I was right.

Malborn was sitting near the back, almost in the corner, staring into a mug of ale. His brow furrowed when he felt my eyes on him, and he raised his head to regard me when I had just begun to approach him. He was really aware about his surroundings; back in Cyrodiil, when I'd left the orphanage, I looked for people like that to help me with my thievery. Old habits die hard.

"Yes?" Malborn gave me a once-over, frowning.

"Our mutual friend sent me," I told him as I rested my pack on the ground and sat in the chair opposite him.

"Really? You're who she picked?" Malborn snorted and took a swig of his ale. "I hope she knows what she's doing. Here's the deal; I can smuggle some equipment into the Embassy for you. Don't plan on bringing anything else with you. The Thalmor take security very seriously. Give me what you can't live without, and I'll make sure you get it into the Embassy. The rest is up to you."

Automatically, I grabbed my bow, arrows, and sword, and handed them over to Malborn. He looked impressed with the weaponry, but otherwise said nothing. I also grabbed a dagger that Aldren had given me "for luck", and handed it to Malborn as well.

He nodded to me and wrapped my weapons in a cloth he had brought, and then left the Winking Skeever. I guessed that he wasn't very good with talking to people, but then again, it was probably a Wood Elf thing.

_Now, Delphine wanted me to meet her at Solitude's stables once I'd finished with Malborn. I hope she's not pissed about having to wait. I mean, it'd suck if I missed the party..._

I left Solitude and followed the path down to where a large windmill stood. I could smell the horses, so I decided that the little farm with the windmill was the Solitude stables. A wagon was waiting right beside Delphine, who had her arms crossed and her angry face on.

"Have you given Malborn the gear you want to smuggle into the Embassy?" Delphine asked, getting straight to the point.

"He's all set," I replied.

"Good. I have your invitation to the party. But the only way you're going to get past the guards is if they really believe you're an invited guest. Which means you need to look the part, and not be armed to the teeth." Delphine grabbed some clothes off of a rock and handed them to me. "Here, put this on. When you're ready, I'll keep the rest of your fear safe until you get back."

I took the party clothes and handed my pack to Delphine. I scouted around the windmill, and then changed inside as quickly as I possibly could. When I was changed, I gave Delphine my new leather armour to keep safe as well.

The party clothes were odd things that Proventus Avenicci would wear, which instantly made me dislike them, but I was willing to put my feelings aside in order to find out about the Dragons and infiltrate a Thalmor party, if not just to spite the bastards.

"Hm. I guess that will do," Delphine remarked smugly. "You should pass for a real guest, until you open your mouth." Oh man, I knew that was coming... "Ready to board the carriage to the Embassy?"

I nodded. "Make sure you keep my stuff safe."

"Don't worry, it will all be waiting for you when you get back. Just make sure you get back out of there alive and with the information we need." I hopped onto the wagon. "Good luck."

Nodding to Delphine, the carriage set off. We travelled up into some mountains, and lucky me, it started to snow. I honestly couldn't wait to get there.

The Embassy looked more like a compact fortress, but the Thalmor guards, dressed in their Elven armour, let the wagon pass the gate. Another wagon came in immediately after mine, with only one other guest. I wondered if I was late or just a bit early.

I was disembarking the wagon when the man in the other wagon was walking past. "Ah!" he exclaimed, grinning at me. "A fellow latecomer to Elenwen's little soiree. And arriving by carriage no less! I salute you, miss!"

I chuckled. "Well, better late than never, right?" _I need to remember to adapt and pay attention to what people say. I don't want to trip over my words when I'm so close._

"My lateness is due more to getting lost on the way up this gods-forsaken mountain than to any desire to actually arrive late," the guest assured me as he liesurely sat on a rock.

I nodded in agreement and approached the Embassy, but a hooded Thalmor stopped me. There were two things I noted when she did: one, the hooded Thalmors were strong wizards, and I should be on my guard around them; and two, if I could get my hands on a hooded robe, it'd be infinitely easier for me to sneak around, but the Thalmor would have to view me from a distance.

"Welcome to the Thalmor Embassy," she greeted cordially, and then extended her hand. "Your invitation please."

I reached into my pockets where Delphine had stored the invitation. After a bit of searching and a mini panic-attack, I found it.

"Here you go," I said, handing her the piece of paper.

The Thalmor scanned the invitation quickly with expert eyes before she put a fake smile on her face and handed the invitation back to me. "Thank-you, miss. Go right in."

I took the invitation, and was surprised to see that the other guest had moved beside me, and was leaning against the wall of the Embassy, much to the hooded Thalmor's dismay.

"I prefer to arrive early," he continued, unaware about my immediate desire to get away from him and get into the Embassy. "Often the day before the party. So as not to miss out on any of the drinking." I finally passed the Thalmor and headed up the small steps to the door of the Embassy, but his voice carried yet. "Now then. Here's my invitation, I don't have a poisoned dagger strapped to my thigh, et cetera, et cetera."

The hooded Thalmor took his invitation roughly. "I'm just doing my duty, sir." She paused, and then sighed. "Everything's in order. Welcome back, sir."

I breathed a sigh of relief as I opened the door into the Thalmor Embassy, but when the Thalmor's aroma around the Embassy struck me the second I stepped inside, that was when I realized that I was far from done.

Elenwen, a High Elf in her mid-thirties and wearing hooded Thalmor robes (albiet with the hood lowered), glanced at me as I entered her Embassy. All right, so it wasn't really _her_ Embassy, but the way she walked over to me, the way her nose was turned upwards, and the way she smiled at me was all to make sure that I would definitely _think_ it was hers. Just _looking_ at her made me hate the Thalmor a little more, if it were even possible.

"Welcome," she said gracefully. "I don't believe we've met. I am Elenwen, the Thalmor Ambassador to Skyrim. And you are...?"

I put my game face on and smiled, remembering how I was forced to smile "nicely" for the Madame all the time. "My name is Taryn," I replied, extending my hand to shake. "Pleased to meet you."

"Ah yes." Elenwen shook my hand quickly and then withdrew as if I had the plague. "I remember your name from the guest list. Please, tell me more about yourself. What brings you to this... to Skyrim?"

"Madame Ambassador, I am so sorry to interrupt." Malborn leaned over the bar, where he had been serving drinks for a different guest. I hadn't even realized he was there.

"What is it, Malborn?" Elenwen snapped in annoyance.

Malborn looked innocently at the High Elf. "It's just that we've run out of the Alto wine. Do I have your permission to uncork the Arenthia red...?"

"Of course. I've told you before not to bother me with such trifles."

"Yes, Madame Ambassador," Malborn said, bowing his head.

Elenwen sighed and looked at me. "My apologies. We'll have to get better acquainted later. Please, enjoy yourself."

She walked away to see to the rest of her guests, one of which I recognized: Jarl Balgruuf the Greater of Whiterun. I ducked my head and leaned on the bar, hoping that Balgruuf hadn't yet seen me.

"What can I get for you?" Malborn asked casually as he began to wipe the counter. Without waiting for me to answer, he lowered his head and whispered: "You made it in. Good. As soon as you distract the guards, I'll open this door and we can get you on your way. Let's hope we both live through this day." I assumed he was talking about the door behind him.

"I'd like a drink," I told Malborn.

He blinked, wondering if I was serious, and then handed me a tankard. "Here you go, miss. The finest Colovian brandy."

I nodded to him. "I'm ready."

"Of course! Let me see if we have another bottle of that." Malborn flung the cloth underneath the bar. "I'll be waiting by the door for everyone to be distracted."

Again, I nodded, and then retreated from the bar. Taking care that Balgruuf wouldn't see me, I glanced around, wondering how I could make a distraction.

"What does a fellow need to do to get a drink around here?" I heard someone grumble. The voice, of course, was all-too familiar; he was the guest that had arrived late with me, and now he was pouting on a bench.

I looked at the brandy in my hands and grinned. "Here," I told him, giving him the tankard, "I brought you a drink."

"Ah," The man took a swig and then grinned up at me. "The one generous soul amongst a gathering of pinch-pennies and lick-spittles! If there's anything I can ever do for you, do not hesitate to call upon me!"

"Actually, there is something you can do for me."

"Wonderful!" he exclaimed. "I can begin to repay your generosity immediately! Say on, friend."

"This is going to sound really weird," I told him, "but I need you to cause a scene. Get everyone's attention for a few minutes."

He laughed and took a long drink of the brandy. "Is that all? My friend, you've come to the right person. You could say that causing a scene is somewhat of a specialty of mine." He stood up, stretched his back, and then grinned. "Stand back and behold my handiwork."

I quickly hurried behind the bar with Malborn, ignoring whatever the man was about to do. I didn't want him to rat me out.

"Let's go, let's go!" Malborn said, gesturing quickly as he opened the door. "Before anyone notices us." We hurried into a dimly lit corridor, where several drinks were stacked on top barrels of wine. Malborn sighed in relief as he shut the door. "So far so good. Let's hope nobody saw us slip out. We need to pass through the kitchen. Your gear is hidden in the larder. Just stay close and let me do any talking, got it?" I nodded. "Follow me."

Malborn opened the door into the kitchen. An Argonian woman glanced up from the meal she was preparing at us and frowned. Another Argonian was behind her, but I couldn't catch his face. He was too preoccupied with moving the barrels of wine.

"Who comes, Malborn? You know I don't like strange smells in my kitchen," the Argonian woman said, examining me.

"A guest, feeling ill," Malborn said, patting me on the back. "Leave the poor wretch be."

"A guest?" the Argonian repeated. "In the kitchens? You know this is against the rules..."

Malborn opened the door to the larder, and as he was about to say something, the massive male Argonian placed a barrel on the floor. "Tsavani, the guest looks sick. I'm sure Elenwen will overlook it. She'd want her guests well-cared for, wouldn't you?"

I really had to try extremely hard not to facepalm. It was Milos.

"Hides-His-Heart, how would you know anything about what Madame Ambassador would want?" Tsavari questioned.

"I worked in a different Embassy once," Milos lied, winking at me. "The Thalmor Ambassador there had several sick guests at once the last time he threw a party, but he kept class in it because he tended to them well." Milos rubbed his hands together. "I'm finished now, so I can help with the guest to get her back into the party."

Tsavari sighed. "Very well."

Milos grinned and came over to us. Malborn looked panicked, but that was only because he didn't know who Milos was. As soon as he shut the door to the larder, Malborn was practically sweating.

"Relax," I said to the Wood Elf. "This is Milos. He's my wingman."

Malborn shook his head. "Your gear is in that chest," he said. "I'll lock the door behind you. Don't screw this up."

"I can lure some of the guards away from you so you can move quickly," Milos explained. "And yes, I know you're angry that I didn't let you do this on your own, but—."

"I get it," I interruped swiftly as I grabbed my weapons. "You were worried."

"I need to lock the door behind you or the patrols might notice something's wrong," Malborn continued. I opened the door, Milos going ahead of me. "Good luck. You're on your own now."

I looked in the drawers to my immediate left once Malborn closed the door and found hooded Thalmor robes. I would be able to move without much restriction once I changed into those from my party clothes.

"Did you see those robes march in this morning?" I heard someone ask. "Who're they with? More of the Emissary's treaty enforcers?"

Milos grinned, gave me a thumbs-up, and then knocked on the open door. "Excuse me?"

"Who goes there?!" a guard yelled.

Milos faked fear. "Woah, hold it! I was just wondering where the bathroom was! I've been holding it in since I got here three hours ago, and I wasn't sure where it was!"

The guards hesitated. I quickly started to undress and put on the hooded Thalmor robes when they finally replied.

"Follow me," a guard said. "Just don't ever come back here again, got it?"

"Yessir," Milos replied quickly. "Can we please hurry? The call of nature's getting louder!"

I heard the guard move away with Milos tailing, but there was still another guard. Luckily, I was already in the robes, and when I pulled the hood up I walked right through the room Milos just went in without a problem.

_Okay, now to find this Dragon evidence,_ I thought. _And maybe whatever records they have on me._

I followed the corridor until I found a door to the inner courtyard of the Embassy. A few guards were patrolling around the walls, and a Thalmor wizard was standing guard at the door I wanted to enter (since it was the only other one). I was really thankful that it was nighttime, so I crouched and slid my dagger out of its sheathe.

"Freezing out here," the wizard grumbled, rubbing his hands furiously on his arms. "Need to move some more."

I quietly made my way towards him, hoping that the snow crunching under my boots was obscured by the guards'. The wizard moved away from the door and stood by a tree in the middle, rubbing his arms with more vigor. I tip-toed behind him and then ran my blade across his throat. He didn't make a sound as he died, and to make sure the guards wouldn't be suspicious, I gently lowered him to the ground and then hurried to the door, sheathing my dagger.

I entered the solar and carefully snuck behind a guard whose back was to me. I stabbed him through his heart and then dragged the body to a corner where no one would look. Ignoring the conversations going on around me, I snuck up some steps and quieted my breathing. Despite how I was ignoring the conversation going on between what I heard was a spy and a wizard, I definitely heard them mention and interrogation room (a.k.a. dungeon). It'd be a good place to look for information.

I heard a lot of movement upstairs, so I hurried back down the steps and hid near the body of the guard I'd just killed. The Thalmor wizard who'd just been talking to his spy started to walk past me. I bit my lip and prayed to the Nine in my head as I slipped my hand into his pocket. Taking extra care, I grabbed hold of the first thing I touch and gently lifted it from his pocket as he began to climb the steps, and the spy left the solar. I looked at my hand and saw that I'd grabbed a key.

I felt relief wash over me. I explored the lower-level of the solar until I found a set of stairs that went lower, no doubt where the interrogation room would be. But instead of going down them, I went back into the room that the wizard and the spy had been in when they were talking. A chest sat behind a desk, but it was unlocked. I carefully brought the lid up and glanced inside. There were two little red journals and a formal-looking piece of paper inside. The first book was about Delphine, whereas the second was on Ulfric Stormcloak. _Dossiers,_ I thought. The piece of paper explained that the Thalmor were close to discovering how the Dragons were coming back to life... but that meant that they weren't involved! I was both relieved and disappointed at the same time.

I hurried down the steps I'd found and examined the small room I was in. Only one door was there, and so I slid the key into the lock. Making sure it wouldn't make much of a sound, I turned it, and the door unlocked. I couldn't believe my luck!

I snuck into the dungeon and glanced over a balcony overlooking the dungeon. A Thalmor guard was partolling, and looking quite bored. I hurried down another set of stairs and to a chest beside a desk, which was also beside one of the cells. I wasn't sure if my disguise would continue to fool the Thalmor now that I was in the dungeon.

Inside the chest was another red journal and a piece of parchment paper that had writing on it. I decided to open the journal first. It was about a Blade, but it definiely wasn't Delphine. As I read on, I discovered that it was about a man named "Esbern". And boy, was he _old_. And hiding out in Riften. I sighed, dreading the ride back to that place.

I heard someone groan. I looked into the bars of the cell beside the chest and saw a man inside, shackled to the wall. I opened the cell door and entered, gently nudging him.

"I told you, I don't know anything else about it," he mumbled hoarsely.

"I'm not here to torture you," I told him softly, pulling the hood off of my head to show I was an Imperial.

"What?" The man looked up at me, examining my face. "Who... what do you want then?"

"No time to explain." I shoved the key I had into his shackles and turned it. "Let's get you out of here."

"Listen up, spy!" I felt my heart sink down into my gut and forced the man onto his hands and knees as we hid from the Thalmor who had just spoken. "You're trapped in here and we have your accomplise! Surrender immediately, or you both die!"

I grabbed my bow and nocked an arrow into it. Luckily, the Thalmor hadn't seen me yet. I aimed for the wizard, hoping that Malborn would be able to defend himself from the other two guards.

"Never mind, I'm dead already—." Malborn was interrupted by the Thalmor wizard, who had recieved my arrow in his throat. Malborn stooped and grabbed a dagger off of his body and held it to the Thalmor guards.

I ran out of the cell, drawing my longsword, and sprinted up the steps, taking them three at a time. Malborn held himself well, but he'd already recieved a few cuts and bruises from the guards' maces. I shoved my longsword into one's back and kicked his body off, and then moved in front of Malborn to defend him. The remaining guard slammed his mace into my arm at an angle I couldn't block. I cried out in pain but twirled my blade around, slicing his head clean off.

I sheathed my blade and grabbed another key off of the wizard's body, but my right arm was in intense pain. I was having trouble using it properly.

"I should have known this would end badly," Malborn sighed. "I can't believe I let Delphine talk me into this. Now the Thalmor will be hunting me for the rest of my life. I hope it was worth it."

"I got the info I needed," I told him. "Come downstairs, okay? We need to find a way out of here."

"You grabbed his key, right? There's a trapdoor downstairs in front of the cells. The Thalmor throw the bodies of their victims down there, but there has to be a way out!"

I nodded. Summoning my magicka, I started to heal the wound on my arm as best I could, but I knew it would be best to let my arm rest for a bit. We descended the steps and saw the man I'd just freed by the trapdoor. I reached for my new key when I heard something in another cell. Taking no chances, I put my left hand on the hilt of my dagger and looked inside.

"Ah. Cha'qim is happy to see a friendly face. She humbly requests that you get her out of these chains, yes?"

Cha'qim, the Khajiit thief from Riften. Despite our first impressions, I was happy to see her.

"You got it." I entered her cell and unlocked her shackles. "What're you doing here all the way from Riften?"

"Cha'qim came on a contract to steal some things during Elenwen's party," she admitted as she rubbed her furry wrists. "Cha'qim does not usually get caught, but she was spotted by a wizard. He saw her tail as she hid."

I shook my head. "That sucks. D'you think you can help in our escape? Even with magicka, my arm's in a lot of pain."

"She will help, since she owes you," Cha'qim agreed. "Cha'qim was being taunted by guards earlier, and they carelessly informed her of the frost troll beyond the trapdoor. Cha'qim wonders how the Thalmor are able to keep hold over the Empire."

"Ditto." We hurried to the trapdoor and descended quickly. There was snow and bones on the ground, and some of the corpses were fresh. "Okay. Ew. Can't these guys just burn the bodies?"

"They are like Nords; they must do everything the hard way," Cha'qim remarked. "The frost troll dislikes fire. Can you use magicka while Cha'qim borrows your bow? She will return it, she promises."

I nodded and carefully gave her my bow. She would just grab the arrows out of my quiver. With Malborn and the other prisoner behind us, we snuck forward and gazed down a small cliff. The frost troll was feasting on a newly-dead necromancer. I shivered at the sight of it and summoned fire into my palm.

"Ready when you are," Cha'qim said.

I launched my fire at the frost troll. Its fur caught fire in its surprise as Cha'qim fired arrow after arrow at it. She wasn't too bad with a bow, I had to admit. The frost troll lunged at us, but couldn't reach us from where we were. Finally, it died, but its smell only worsened.

"It will take some time before they realize that their pet has become deceased," the Khajiit said. "Cha'qim can smell the fresh mountain air from here. We should be on our way."

I agreed, and we carefully made our way down the small cliff. Cha'qim led us nimbly over a fallen tree and pointed to a crevace, where we would finally make our escape.

I was glad that it was finally over, even if we found more questions than answers. When we got into the mountains and away from the Embassy, I saw Milos. He saw me clutching my arm and frowned, but he otherwise was relieved.

"Got what Delphine needed?" he asked.

I nodded. "That, and a little more," I told him. "Can we go back to Riverwood now?"

"Javin can take a proper look at that when we get there." Milos practically read my mind.

"Cha'qim will take her leave now," the Khajiit said, putting a hand on my good shoulder. "But she will repay you one day. She swears it, because she trusts you."

"I thought trust was hard to come by?" I remarked.

"Cha'qim only needs a bit of convincing to be shown otherwise." She waved at us. "Farewell, friends."

We watched her go swiftly and silently. Milos shook his head, but didn't say a word about her. "So, should we hire a carriage?"

"That'd probably be best, since—."

Something slammed hard against my head. Milos caught me as I fell forward into him, and then something hit him. Neither of us had time to react, but at least I was still a bit awake. I struggled to keep my eyes open as I heard someone approach—no... It was two people.

One was standing over me, wiping his hands together. "Hello there," he greeted.

I groaned, and as a reply he slammed a branch against my head (again). That one knocked me out.

And I had a feeling that whatever was coming wasn't going to be good.


	21. Blast From the Past

Chapter Twenty:

Blast From the Past

My head was ringing when I woke up. I groaned and tried to stretch my arms, but they were bound to the seat I was in. That's when I remembered that Milos and I were attacked, but... where _was_ Milos?

I shook my head from side-to-side quickly so I could clear my head. Not only was I bound, but someone had taken the liberty of tieing a cloth around and inside of my mouth. Even my curses weren't coming out!

A door suddenly slammed open. One look at the man walking through, and I knew that Milos and I weren't just attacked randomly. This was for a grudge. This was personal. Between us, and us alone.

The man was a Breton, who was dressed in green finery, blue suede pants, and fine shoes. His eyes were sharp and cunning, and everything about him screamed, "holier-than-thou". This person I would hate for the rest of my life.

_Arnand Bienne._

Flipping a lock of his brown hair out of his face, Arnand glared down at me. "Long time no see, Taryn," he growled.

It's not that I didn't _want_ to say anything. It was just that I _couldn't_. Instead I narrowed my eyes and hoped he felt the absolute loathing I was feeling for him.

"You have been a very bad girl," Arnand continued. "With you gone from Anvil, the Thalmor were looking for someone to blame for what you did. Did you know that your little 'group' has been disbanded? Most of them are jailed now. I told them I'd give their regards to you once I'd found you." Arnand put a hand on my face. I quickly pulled my face back. "You've been very busy since I last saw you. I see you found that stupid Argonian. And even the assassin I sent after you is following your lead. I've always hated that about you. You never seem to understand that you're one of those stupid 'natural-born leaders'."

_Take this thing off and I'll Shout your damn ears off!_

"The Count is still alive, you know." All of a sudden, I felt a weight lift off of my shoulders. "I saw the little piece of paper in your pack, though. I saw you escape the Embassy, too, so I can only assume that you didn't read this." Arnand waved the piece of paper I found with Esbern's dossier. "It details that the Thalmor are looking for the Imperial who _attacked_ the Count of Anvil. Not that he's dead. How lucky you are, Taryn. How very lucky indeed."

I felt so relieved at the fact that I definitely was't a murderer that I barely even noticed the two other people entering the room. One, the Nord with the warhammer on his back, started to stoke the fire. The other, easily a Mage by the robes and hood over his face, stood near Arnand.

"Isn't it about time, then?" the Mage asked, crossing his arms. "Or did you just hire me for my company?"

Arnand grinned. "Place a few runes around her. Don't let her use any sort of magicka. I'm not taking any chances with her."

"She improvises then, huh?" The Mage did as he was told and placed runes around my chair. They worked quickly. I was feeling weak already. "There. Done. Should be safe."

Arnand tore the cloth and tossed it into a corner. "Now we can talk properly."

"Fuck. You," I growled.

He smiled, and again touched my face. "I missed you, Taryn."

"Get your hand off!" I launched forward, slamming my head into his chest and knocking the wind out of him. I took a lot of pleasure seeing him like that.

Arnand touched his chest. "You there! Get over here!"

The big Nord at the fire looked at Arnand. "Yes, boss?"

"Hit her right arm. It's wounded," the Breton ordered.

"Got it."

The Nord lumbered over to me and put his left hand on my shoulder. Curling his right fist, he slammed it hard into the wound I'd recieved from the Embassy. Pain exploded through my arm, but I gritted my teeth and bit back the scream. I wouldn't give Arnand the pleasure.

"Again!" Arnand snapped.

The huge fist of the Nord barrelled hard into my arm. I grunted in pain. My head was ringing, I was starting to become dazed, and I knew I couldn't Shout. Those runes around me were doing their job well.

Arnand ordered my arm to be hit at least five more times before I finally screamed, unable to take the pain. I'd felt like I failed myself, but there was no way I was going to lose here. Not when there was still so much at stake!

Ordering the Nord to stop, Arnand drew a dagger and gazed at it. "It almost pains me to hurt a creature such as yourself, Taryn. But I can't stand the sight of you any longer. After all, your face is already scarred. What's the difference of adding just one more?"

"You... don't have... the guts!" I spat venomously. "I was gone... for, like, a few weeks... and you... couldn't even hold... control for that... long!"

"Shut up!" Arnand back-handed me across the face, hard. I spat out blood onto the floor. "You bitch! You stuck-up bitch!"

"Can't think... of a better insult?" I goaded. "Your ancestors... must be proud... of you!"

"Hold her face!" Arnand yelled to the Nord. Each of the Nord's large hands grabbed hold of a side of my face, forcing me to look straight to Arnand. "You're going to regret every single moment of your miserable life!"

"Bring. It. On." I grinned. "Life's full... of regrets!"

Arnand spun the blade around in his hand and then pressed it against my face, right where my scar from the rock had finished.

"And that's the first thing you're going to regret," he whispered.

I screamed in agony as Arnand dug the blade into my face and dragged it down. What lasted only a few seconds had felt like eras of pain, and Arnand didn't stop until he'd reached my chin. I'd get a new jagged scar on my face, but it wasn't in much of a straight line from the previous one. This one went a bit diagonal, across my lips and to the centre of my chin. It was hard to find where the blood began, or where it'd stop.

Arnand tossed the dagger into a corner and put his hands on my face. "Now, do you see what I had to do? You need to realize that it's better not to defy me, Taryn."

I spat out more blood, this time onto his face. He recoiled and used the sleeve of his fine garbs to wipe the blood away. Arnand glared at me, his eyes filled with hate.

Too bad for him I wasn't paying attention. The blood... it wasn't from what I'd swallowed. It was because I was sick. I was sick again! That meant... I was really going to die. Hiemdall wasn't around with those... whatever they were. And Milos was nowhere. I was going to die alone, in my own blood, with the person I hated the most in the Nirn standing over me.

Or, maybe I just jump to conclusions too fast.

The door burst open off of its hinges as more blood came up and a massively large wolf came inside, on its hind legs. My mind raced, the fear suddenly clouding the pain I was in. It wasn't just a wolf: it was a Werewolf.

It roared and leapt at the Nord man, who had abandoned his post to grab his warhammer. The Werewolf mauled him, sinking its teeth and its claws into him and ripping him limb from limb. The Mage summoned fire into his palms, but a greatsword stopped him from casting. Hiemdall pulled his blade out of the Mage while Arnand ran out of the building, screaming in fear.

I was paralyzed, but only got sicker. Hiemdall hurried over to me, ignoring the screams of Arnand, and cut through the ropes tieing me to the chair. I struggled to get to my feet, but Hiemdall took it a step further and swung me up onto his back, piggy-back style.

The Werewolf behind us growled, finished with its victim. I expected it to attack us, but it just followed us out, ensuring that we weren't being followed. We emerged out of the building and into the snow. I felt bad that all my blood was getting on Hiemdall, but I couldn't do much about it.

"Hold on, Taryn! Just hold on!" Hiemdall began to trudge through the snow. He was going as fast as he could, but he was being hindered a lot by the snowbanks, and the stinging little snowflakes that so kindly decided to attack us. "Shit, where's Milos?!"

On the bright side, I wasn't going to die alone. But then again, I was going to die. I wasn't exactly the happiest camper.

But then, a new pain sprang forth. One I hadn't experienced yet. One I definitely didn't want to ever again. Like when I absorbed the souls of slain Dragons, I felt like I was on fire. It was hard to breathe, and even holding on to Hiemdall became an impossible task. I felt so weak, as if my energy was being sapped, but at the same time, I knew where it was headed. I knew where all of my strength was in my body, and I couldn't call it to me.

I fell backwards into the snow, Hiemdall's attempts to catch me failing miserably. I screamed, suddenly wishing that Arnand would cut me a million times rather than go through the agony I was in now. I wrapped my arms around myself, as it felt like my body was ripping apart, but it was no use. The pain, the blood... it was unbearable. I _wanted_ to die. I wanted to die just so that it would end. I think I even begged Hiemdall to kill me.

"Don't worry," Hiemdall said. "Milos is coming. He's coming to help."

_Milos._ As long as I could hold out until he came, I'd be all right. Maybe. I hoped I would. I didn't know what I'd do without him.

The Werewolf by Hiemdall folded its ears against its head and bared its teeth, growling low. Hiemdall shushed it quickly. I wondered how he'd come to control it, but I didn't waste breath to ask him. Again, the Werewolf started growling. The pain in my body intensified, and I was practically sweating buckets.

I gave up. I just _gave up_. I couldn't do it any longer. I couldn't fight, couldn't scream, couldn't hold on...

Closing my eyes was the biggest mistake of my life.


	22. Closing the Gap

Chapter Twenty-One:

Closing the Gap

It was dawn when I woke up. Light had begun to stream over the mountains, and even though my eyes were closed, I could see the sun. I didn't want to open my eyes to look at it. I was too exhausted.

I could barely remember what had happened the day before. Barely. Infiltrating the Thalmor Embassy and then seeing Arnand Bienne again were clear, but nothing else.

I shivered at the cold. I didn't know where I was, or why I felt like I was freezing my ass off, but I didn't feel like getting up to find out. It was hard enough to breathe as it was.

When I moved my left hand, I felt an intense pain in it. I could feel the warm blood trickling down my arm, but I didn't remember where I could've gotten the wound. Carefully, I opened my eyes, squinting from the rays of the sun. At the centre of my left hand was a wound from a sword, and it had gone straight through my hand. I was lucky that it hadn't damaged any bones. My right side was in pain too, and when I looked, there was a deep gash just above my waist. I was a mess.

And I was naked.

That little revelation instantly made my eyes widen. I scrambled into a sitting position, wincing at the pain in my side, and did my best to cover myself by holding my legs close to my chest. From what I could see, I was underneath a bridge that extended over a river. The only sounds were from that river and from the forest around it. Everything was _green_. The last I remember was from the white of the snow.

I heard someone approach. Instantly reddening, I scanned around with my eyes for a hiding spot, but it was a little late for that.

Milos came around the corner of the bridge and glanced at me. "I brought a blanket," he said, holding up the quilt.

I hung my head. I didn't know what had happened the night before, but something told me that Milos did. And from how Milos had said that one simple sentance, I assumed that he didn't like what had happened.

Milos draped the blanket over my shoulders, and I took great care to cover all of my being (except for my head) with it. He sat down beside me under the bridge and was quiet for a time. I hoped the blood on my side wasn't soaking through, or from my hand. I didn't want Milos to see that I got hurt. And then I remembered that Arnand had already cut my face, so there was really no point.

"Are you okay?" Milos asked finally. "Injuries?"

I nodded slowly. "Just a few."

"Do you want me to—?"

"Milos, a _blanket_ is the only thing that's stopping your eyes from seeing my naked body. _No_."

He smirked and then rubbed a scaley hand gently on the right side of my face, where the wound still hurt a lot. I cringed when Milos touched the sensative flesh, and he pulled away.

"That'll scar," he said quietly. "Can't do much with magicka for it now. Just wait for it to heal and clean it up."

I carefully rubbed my tired eyes. I wanted to sleep, but the pain from my wounds would keep me awake even if I tried. Milos spotted the blood from my side on the blanket and then held out his hand, palm up.

"Hand please," he ordered softly.

I grabbed the blanket in my right hand and slipped my left hand out. It hurt a lot to move the hand, but not my arm. At least I was a bit lucky. Milos examined the wound with his eyes rather than his fingers, like he'd done with my face. He frowned, but not deeply. He knew something about the wound.

"What's wrong?" I asked him.

Milos avoided my eyes when he answered. "That may not scar if I can get Javin here soon."

I tilted my head to the side. "Milos, look at me." He released my hand, but refused with silence. "Please, Milos..."

"I'll go find some clothes for you. Then we can—."

Despite the pain in my left hand, I grabbed the collar of Milos' armour and pulled him towards me, and then threw my left arm around him. I hugged him so tightly, with every bit of energy I could muster, in hopes that I could remember or figure out why Milos—_Milos!_ Of all people!—was so sad.

"I don't know what happened," I admitted. "I don't remember. But whatever happened, I know you wouldn't be so sad without a reason. So just tell me what happened, so I can apologize for whatever did. I... I can't apologize for something I don't know about."

Milos sighed, and then pulled away from me. His brow furrowed in thought as he tried to find the words. What could be so bad that the words were caught in his throat?

He sat beside me, on my left, and wrapped an arm around my shoulders, then leaned my head against his shoulder. "Don't freak out," he said. "And... you're not the one who should be apologizing."

_Milos' eyes opened slowly. He groaned in pain as he raised his head from the ground, but forgot it as soon as he was on his feet. He couldn't see Taryn._

_ Milos staggered around, using trees to keep his balance. He couldn't see much through the darkness, and most of what he could see was snow, but there wasn't the form of the Imperial woman he knew so well._

_ "Cha'qim heard a noise." The Khajiit he'd seen with Taryn hopped down from a nearby tree. "She came back to see the Argonian lying in the snow, but no Imperial. What happened?"_

_ "Someone knocked us out," Milos explained. "When I woke up, Taryn wasn't with me."_

_ "Cha'qim believes she can find your friend," she said. "What about her other friends?"_

_ "Taryn's? Hiemdall should be in Whiterun right now—."_

_ Cha'qim nodded. "Good," she said quickly. "Get the friends. Cha'qim believes that she can find the kidnappers within the next few hours, but you must hurry to Hiemdall."_

_ Milos reluctnantly nodded and started sprinting to Whiterun, but when he reached the settlement of Dragon's Bridge, he stopped to hire a courier. He would be faster than an Argonian in heavy armour, and the fact that he had a horse only made it better._

_ Milos only waited an hour before Hiemdall sprinted into Dragon's Bridge, drenched in sweat, followed closely by the Companion woman named Aela._

_ "Taryn?!" he exclaimed, gasping for air._

_ "I have someone looking for her right now," Milos assured him. "How'd you get here so fast?!"_

_ "I ran."Hiemdall used the gigantic bridge for support. "How long... do we wait?"_

_ "I dunno." Milos ran a hand across his head, rubbing the horns. "I just hope—."_

_ "Cha'qim has discovered the location, Argonian." The Khajiit jogged up to the group of three, giving a toothy smile. "She has found Taryn, but we all must hurry. She's not in the best of shape at the moment."_

_ The three followed Cha'qim closely, but Milos' heavy armour held him back. When Hiemdall stopped for him, Milos told him not to bother. Someone needed to get to Taryn quickly, and he'd be there eventually. Hiemdall was reluctant, but did as Milos told him._

_ By the time Milos had caught up with Cha'qim, she was hiding in a tree, frightened by something. Milos looked inside the lonely cabin that Cha'qim had obviously led Hiemdall and Aela to and saw two corpses. One had been stabbed with a blade, and the other was a mess, as if something had ripped the poor guy apart. But there was a pool of blood around a lone chair in the middle, and ropes that had obviously been cut were lying in that pool._

_ Milos panicked. "Where'd they go?!" he yelled up to Cha'qim._

_ Recovering her wits, Cha'qim clid down the trunk of the tree. "Follow Cha'qim!"_

_ The Khajiit led Milos through a wooded area, where more blood was present. He hoped it wasn't Taryn's, but something told him that it was. The knowledge did nothing to quell his fears._

_ A howl sounded through the night, followed closely by growling. Milos emerged into a clearing where two gigantic wolves circled each other, growling and snapping their teeth. One of them was shaking its head every so often, as if trying to clear it. He knew that they weren't just wolves, but Werewolves. _

_ "Milos!" Hiemdall hissed. "Get back!"_

_ Hiemdall was in-between the wolves as they growled, holding out his hands as if to stop them should they charge. However, the Werewolves weren't interested in him._

_ "What the hell're you doing?!" Milos started forward, but Cha'qim grabbed his arm to stop him. At least she knew the danger._

_ But it didn't stop one of the Werewolves. It turned to face him, baring its teeth and flattening its ears against its head._

_ "Not a good idea!" Hiemdall was trying to communicate with the Werewolf, but it ignored him. "Don't do this! You'll regret it later!"_

_ The Werewolf roared and charged at Milos. Quicker than the Argonian, Cha'qim used her claws to climb up the nearest tree. Milos, however, grabbed the greatsword off of his back and lunged forward. He missed the beast's head, but instead stabbed its hand right through; the one that would have tossed him around if he hadn't been lucky enough to hit it._

_ The Werewolf roared again but continued forward at Milos on its hind legs, lunging at him with its teeth. Milos punched it in the head and then pulled his greatsword out, retreating a few steps. Hiemdall leapt onto the Werewolf's back and wrapped his arm around its neck, screaming at it, but the Werewolf shook him off and threw him into a tree. The other Werewolf launched itself forward, but the first expertly dodged it and ran at the downed Hiemdall._

_ Milos ran after it, dodging around the other Werewolf. By some miracle, Milos managed to slide in front of Hiemdall before the Werewolf got there. Milos slammed his greatsword into the Werewolf's side with everything he had, and was surprised that the beast hadn't been sliced in half._

_ However, he'd done the damage he needed to. The Werewolf retreated, whining in pain, and then started sprinting away on all fours. The other Werewolf looked ready to give chase, but stopped when it was Hiemdall. He was groggily getting to his feet, and then shook his head._

_ Milos grabbed Hiemdall's arm and hefted him up. "Where's Taryn?!"_

_ Hiemdall pushed Milos away. "You idiot!" he snapped. "Didn't I tell you to stay away?! You've just made things _way_ more difficult!"_

_ More forcefully, Milos grabbed Hiemdall's arm. "Where the hell is Taryn?!"_

_ Hiemdall frowned and ran a hand through his blonde hair, crouching. "You're not gonna like the answer."_

_ "Cha'qim believes that Taryn escaped. Hiemdall probably told her to go while he got the attention of the Werewolves," Cha'qim said as she slid down from the tree. "Sorry. Cha'qim is not good with dogs, but this one does not want to attack us."_

_ As if in agreement, the Werewolf barked and dropped on all fours._

_ "So now, the Werewolf is probably going after the weaker prey," Cha'qim continued. "And if Taryn had been kidnapped, knocked-out, and attempted escape, this makes her weaker prey."_

_ "Yeah, that Werewolf's getting Taryn over my dead body!" Milos started after it, where he believed the Werewolf had gone last._

_ Hiemdall ran ahead of Milos and slipped in the snow. "Milos, don't go after it!"_

_ "I need to protect Taryn!"_

_ "Bloody good job you've done so far!"_

_ Milos' eyes narrowed on the Nord. He grabbed his armour and slammed Hiemdall against a tree. "I may be bad at timing, but by the Eight I'm going to help Taryn!"_

_ "You want to help her?! Then listen!" Hiemdall put his hands on Milos' arm. "Put me down, and I'll tell you how you can help." Reluctantly, Milos lowered Hiemdall, but didn't remove his hand. "First, do you have a blanket?"_

_ "I have one in my pack."_

_ "Good. Get that. Do you have any balm or potions, either?"_

_ Milos shook his head. "Javin has them. Said he'd hold onto them."_

_ "Okay, then we'll get Javin." Hiemdall shook Milos' hand off. "It'll be less than an hour until sunrise. Wait until then."_

_ "But Taryn—!"_

_ "—Will be fine until then," he interrupted. "You have my word, Milos. I promise you." Milos nodded slowly, and Hiemdall looked at the other Werewolf. "Follow," he said quietly._

_ The Werewolf bounded off, following the scent of the other Werewolf and its tracks in the snow. Milos and the others waited only a while before they heard howling, and the rays of the sun peeked over the mountains._

_ "Where's Aela?" Milos asked._

_ Hiemdall smiled. "She's looking for the other Werewolf."_

_ "You mean...?"_

_ Nodding, Hiemdall rummaged for the blanket in Milos' pack. "Yep. She's the Werewolf you saw."_

_ "But how—?"_

_ "A few of the members are Werewolves," Hiemdall explained. "Only the exclusive members though. Myself included."_

_ "You're a Werewolf?"_

_ "Duh. Why did you think Aldren can't stand the smell of me?"_

_ "I thought you just stunk in general."_

_ He grinned wider. "Well, I'm glad that _someone_ isn't running away."_

_ "My parents became Werecrocodiles after I was born. Werewolves aren't much of a difference. Just hairier."_

_ Hiemdall rubbed the stubble on his face. "What about Taryn?"_

_ "She didn't know her parents. Decided not to find out after a few years. She didn't want to know the people who didn't bother to try and know her, or even find her."_

_ "Harsh." _

_ "She was worse when she was younger. Always the rebel."_

_ Hiemdall looked at the sky. "Hm. About that time then." He handed the blanket to Milos. "I'll go see Javin. You just make sure to get this to Taryn."_

_ "I don't see how she'll need it."_

_ "Trust me; you'll see in a minute."_

I gripped the blanket tighter and stared at the ground, as if my gaze could make a hole for me to throw myself into. Then again, there was a river right in front of us.

"And where did the Werewolf go?" I asked quietly. I wasn't stupid; I knew the answer. It was just that I needed to hear it. I couldn't assume it. I _needed_ to hear it.

"I don't know where it went, but you're here." Milos rested his head against mine. "That's all that matters to me."

The emotions inside me overflowed. I couldn't contain them anymore. Rage, confusion, sadness... That was all I felt then. The sense of "self" I'd formed and managed to take hold of in Cyrodiil after several years had completely deteriorated during the few weeks I'd been in Skyrim. I didn't know who I was any longer. I just started to cry, and when it started, I couldn't stop it. It was all too much in too short a time. The life I had was spinning out of control and on a collision-course, and all I could do was stand and watch.

It was a while after that Hiemdall came with Javin. Aldren, Cha'qim, and Aela were in tow. Javin took one look at me and shooed everyone else away as he reached into his pack and pulled out health potions and bandages, and also some clothes that Hiemdall had asked him to bring. Simple clothes, not armour. Javin wouldn't let me change into them until he'd treated me, but he at least let me get some underwear on.

The gash in my side was worse off than my hand, so he treated that first. He didn't bother to ask where I'd gotten it from. I had a sinking feeling that Hiemdall must have explained what was going on.

I furiously rubbed another stupid tear away while Javin was bandaging up my side, having finished with healing it with magicka and forcing me to drink the gross-tasting health potions. He sighed and put a hand on top of my head, and then rubbed it affectionately.

"Everything will be all right," he said.

I really wanted to believe him. When Javin was ready to work on my hand, he allowed me to get dressed in the tunic, pants and boots that were brought. Javin then healed up my hand, but he told me there'd be a scar on my side and my hand. He didn't have to tell me that about the one on my face.

Javin examined my face much like Milos had. When he gently rubbed the sensative flesh, I winced, but that only made it hurt more. Even crying made it hurt. Javin used magicka to knit the flesh together and then rubbed some salve on the new scar, in hopes to dull the pain. I looked like I'd fought in the Great War against the Thalmor, or at least fought in the Civil War here in Skyrim.

When he was finished, I asked Javin if I could have some time alone. I needed to think. Javin obliged and promised to tell the others to give me some space for a while. I just hoped that they'd listen. Especially Milos.

I climbed up onto the bridge and just stared at the river for a while. I didn't even know where I was, but I could still see the Throat of the World. At least I knew that we were still a ways off from it.

I balled my hands into fists. I didn't know how I could become a... well, a _monster_, but I knew that I'd never been bitten. I'd never turned at a full moon, I'd never had a special fetish for killing people, I just... I wasn't sure how it was possible. I grabbed a rock on the bridge and tossed it furiously at the river, as if such a simple thing could wipe away my problems. But I knew it wouldn't.

Thane of Whiterun, Dragonborn, Ysmir, orphan, Imperial... Werewolf. I covered my face with my hands, attempting to avoid the new and sensative scar on my face. I just wanted to hide from the world and its titles. Couldn't I just be me without something happening to define who I was? Why couldn't life just be simple? Milos was even refusing to look me in the eye now. Why? Was he so afraid of me now that all he saw was the Werewolf? All of my problems just kept piling up and multiplying. I would never be free of them.

"Shit..." I muttered. That about summed up how I was feeling.

I kicked the bridge and then started to pace. How was I going to move forward? Normally, as if nothing had changed? I sure as hell didn't want to make a big deal out of it, but it _was_ a big deal. That'd be irresponsible and stupid if I ignored it. But acknowledging it... Whatever was left of the original "me" would surely die off if I did.

Whatever happened, I needed to make a decision. The Dragons weren't going to wait, and neither were the Thalmor who were after Esbern, and I definitely wasn't going to make Delphine wait again. I _needed_ to make a decision.


	23. Onwards and Upwards

Chapter Twenty-Two:

Onward and Upward

My companions (plus Aela) were back in the shack where Arnand had taken me to. I could hear them talking inside, but I couldn't hear what they were saying. I put my hand against the door and hesitated to enter. I didn't want to meet their eyes. It was really too bad that I was so polite; I would've just left if I wasn't.

My hand curled into a fist on the door. The new scar on it, impossibly pale against my already white skin, was just another reminder I didn't need about what I was about to do. My side still hurt, even though Javin had healed it with magicka, but it was numbing at least.

I took a few deep breaths and then relaxed my hand. Gritting my teeth, I pushed the door open and went inside, closing it quietly behind me. Milos was leaning against the back wall, his arms crossed and his expression unreadable. Hiemdall and Aela were standing in front of the fire, whatever they were talking about forgotten as soon as I got inside. Cha'qim was sitting in a corner, observing everyone with her blue catlike eyes. Aldren and Javin were standing silent across the room from Aela and Hiemdall, though Aldren would occasionally glance over at Cha'qim.

I only took a few steps inside before I put my back up against the wall across from Milos and gently slid down it into a sitting position. I deliberated what I would say while I watched them, and they watched me. The only person who wouldn't meet my eyes was Milos.

"I'm not entirely sure how this happened," I admitted quietly, "but it has. I'm big-time confused about it too. I need to ask you a few questions Hiemdall, and if anyone wants to leave the little party we've somehow come to create, I won't hold it against you. In fact, I'd recommend it."

No one moved, not even Cha'qim. She was just watching me attentively, enough to make up for Milos at least.

"Hiemdall, did you know?"

Hiemdall sighed and crossed his arms. "Only after Kodlak told me, the time you got sick in the Jorrvaskr." I kept my gaze on him, unwavering. Hiemdall shifted uncomfortably, and then smiled apologetically. "Those, um, little potions that Kodlak's supplied? It wasn't until after you took it the first time that Kodlak told me what he suspected you were, and how he dealt with your sickness. Actually, you weren't sick at all. See, in the Jorrvaskr, the Circle—the inner-group of warriors in the Companions—are all Werewolves. Aela and I are part of the Circle, and so is Kodlak." Hiemdall cleared his throat. "Anyway, Kodlak told me that the little potion he'd given you was to stop your Wolf Spirit from taking over. All Werewolves have it. It's the reason we can transform at all. Yours felt the presence of mine, of Aela's, Farkas', Vilkas', and Kodlak was just the cherry on the cake. Our presences overwhelmed you, and your Wolf Spirit wanted to come forth to challenge us. The potion only works for those who haven't partaken in our ritual, namely those who have been bitten, or those who have parents who are Werewolves."

I rubbed my temples. I just got another great reason to hate my parents, because I knew for a _fact_ that I'd never been bitten.

"Surprisingly though, from what we've gathered, you should have transformed on your very first full moon," Aela said. "The fact that you didn't speaks volumes."

"Must be the Dragon Blood," Javin suggested. "The Dragonborn houses the soul of a Dragon inside of themself as well. That must have been what suppressed it for so long."

"The second time you got sick was my fault," Hiemdall continued. "Prolonged duration of time with me and my Wolf Spirit got you sick again, and you very nearly transformed that time. See, when the blood was coming out, it wasn't because you were dying; your Wolf Spirit was trying to weaken you in an effort to take over. Two hours is a _long_ time to hold on, and Javin (when he'd made that potion for you) had given you wolfsbane, only weakening you further. This last time... well, it's obvious that it succeeded. Aela and I getting there to help you only worsened your condition, especially since Aela was in her Beast Form. When we left the Jorrvaskr—you, Milos and I—Kodlak had asked me to keep an eye on you, in case he was just overreacting. When you were sick in Riverwood, I told him that it was happening again, and he gave me more potions, but I had a feeling that it wasn't going to work a third time." Hiemdall shrugged. "I was right."

I clasped my hands together and rested my arms on my knees, which were close to my chest. I sighed. Even though Hiemdall had wanted to go on the Pilgrimage, he'd just been a convenient factor for Kodlak. I felt that I needed to talk to the Harbinger of the Companions, if not for some closure, then to find out why he'd even bother trying to help me.

"So, now for the big question..." I breathed slowly. "Full moon or no? And please don't suger-coat it. I want it straight."

Hiemdall took a minute to think. "I'm actually not sure. Perhaps you're like us, and can transform at will, though I'm doubting that you'll want to try. We'll just have to check at the next full moon, now won't we?"

I covered my face in my hands. "Crap..." Sighing, I looked back at Hiemdall. "If we have to, then we need to find a safe place. I don't want a repeat of what happened last night. It could probably get even worse."

"Do you even remember last night?" Aela asked.

I shook my head. "No, thank the Nine."

A frown tugged at the corners of Aela's mouth. "What's to be thankful for? You're missing out."

"If I have to 'miss out' on remembering that I've turned into a big, hairy, smelly, mindless _beast_, then I'll 'miss out' as much as I can, thanks."

"You're missing the point—."

"No, _you're_ missing the point! _I don't want this_! I don't want any part of it, and I've been forcefully dragged into it!" I snapped. "I didn't get a choice like you two! Turns out that this is just a great l'il parting gift from my parents, who didn't bother to let me _know_ about it, even in a _note_!"

Aela snorted. "You're starting to sound like Kodlak, pup."

"_Don't_. _Call_. _Me_. _That_," I growled.

The atmosphere inside the cabin, for just a moment, was dangerous. Everyone was tense, but I wasn't sure if that was because they were afraid of what could happen, or if they already thought it had gone too far.

Huffing, Aela strode past me. "Hiemdall, I'll be in the Jorrvaskr," she said. "Maybe you should come back too. The Silver Hand is getting bolder, and they've been spotted near Whiterun. Your Pilgrimage is done, and you've got the necessary information that Kodlak will want. There's no reason to stay with these people any longer."

She closed the door a bit roughly behind her and left. I wondered briefly if Hiemdall would follow, but he stayed put. It was like he'd ignored every word of Aela's.

"Now, about the reason we're all here..." I cleared my throat. "Milos, you probably don't remember, but the day before you left for Black Marsh, a new orphan came to Anvil."

"I don't," he murmured.

I nodded. "Arnand Bienne was—is—two years older than us. Remember how all the younger kids used to flock around us a lot?" Milos slowly nodded as he remembered. "Arnand didn't like that little trait of mine. When you left, I decided to do my best to help those younger kids. Arnand ignored them. He wouldn't even be in the orphanage a year, since he was already halfway through his seventeenth year. He didn't care about the kids. When I turned eighteen, I left the orphanage, but I had no idea what to do. I didn't even have the money to go anywhere. Not even onto a ship." I sighed. "So I did what anyone in that situation would; I started to steal. Course, I marked my targets and took only what they wouldn't miss, and pawned it with the Thieves Guild for some gold, but then the kids I used to take care of... The Madame was making them leave the orphanage at _seventeen_. I taught them how to survive and take only enough for it. Eventually, I had an entire little group. Arnand became a part of it when I invited him, just because he'd been a part of the orphanage. That's... Well, that's when things went downhill."

I hated the memory of it. The look that Arnand gave me, the faked smile that I couldn't see through... I couldn't believe how stupid I'd been.

"In our group, I made sure to punish those who broke the rules. It was nothing extreme, but it wasn't light either. I tried to be as fair as possible, for old time's sake. One night, Arnand, who had assumed the role of second-in-command, told me that a newer member had stolen from a beggar and murdered him when things went south. I was... I was livid. If anyone found out about the little gang I'd made, everyone would be in danger, and the murder would be investigated. Arnand told me that he had captured our new recruit and had him waiting for me, so I didn't hesitate to follow Arnand. We entered our hideout, and he was sitting in a chair, his hands and legs tied to it and a burlap sack over his head. He didn't talk when I talked to him. I got angry. I couldn't believe he'd do something so stupid... I had an ultimate punishment that I'd never had to use before. I threatened to cut their chest with a single stroke, but they'd still live. It was just something to keep everyone in line, but I had to do it then. I started to bring the blade across his chest when Arnand..." I hung my head. "Arnand pushed me. I lost my grip on the blade and stabbed him. I was scared. I yelled at Arnand and pulled the burlap sack off of the guy's head..."

My fists clenched at the memory. Arnand's look... It was like he had been hungry for something. Craving it. And I had played right into his hands.

"It wasn't the new recruit," I grumbled miserably. "It was the Count of Anvil. And I'd just stabbed him. Arnand yelled something, and the next thing I knew, the Thalmor were sprinting from hidden places only known to those in the group. I'd been set-up. Played. I started running and never looked back, and while I was running, I decided that Skyrim was my best bet for safety. No one would know me, and the brimming Civil War would hide me well. I climbed the Jerall Mountains, got scar number one, and the rest you all mostly know."

Milos' brow furrowed. "You attacked the Count of Anvil?" he repeated.

"It wasn't on purpose—."

"You _attacked_ the _Count_ _of_ _Anvil_?!" Milos' body was tense. "How many chances did you have to find out who he was without attacking him?! Are you completely insane?!"

"Look, I admit that I did a really, really, _really_ stupid thing, but I can't take it back now." I waited for Milos to say something else, but when he didn't, I continued. "Guys, is there anything else I should know about anything? You know all about me now, even though I didn't. Now that it's all in the open, is there anything that anyone wants to add?"

There was a resounding silence in the room until it quieted when Javin spoke up. "Well, first-off, in the days of my youth I grew arrogant and angry at the Arch Mage, left the College, and began to worship any sort of Daedric Prince I could find. I also studied Nercromancy."

"You worshipped Daedra?" Aldren repeated in disbelief.

"Sheogorath was a very interesting fellow." Javin shrugged. "I later returned to the College, seeing the folly of my ways, and eventually rose to the Arch Mage's position after his tragic end at the hands of a Thalmor who sought power, but in all the wrong places. I helped to save the College and was made its leader."

Aldren rubbed his chin. "For starters, I was once a priest of Mara," he admitted. "I was in Windhelm once and encountered a boy preforming the Black Sacrament, an ancient ritual to summon the Dark Brotherhood. He mistook me for one of them and asked that I kill the Madame of his orphanage who was terribly cruel to him and the other children."

"So you just _happened_ to become part of the Dark Brotherhood? Even though you were a priest?" Hiemdall asked, a grin tugging at his lips.

"I decided to investigate and perhaps talk the hag down," Aldren explained.

I smiled. "Did she happen to live in Anvil? _Please_ tell me she lived in Anvil!"

Aldren shook his head, much to my disappointment. "She lived in Riften, where, incidentally, my home as a priest was. So I went to the orphanage. 'Grelod the Kind', her name was. She shut herself in her room after yelling at the children. I snuck in and killed her."

"Just like that?" Hiemdall pressed.

"Know of any _other_ way to kill someone, dog?" Aldren leaned against the wall. "I received a message later from the Dark Brotherhood and was kidnapped by their leader, Astrid. She held me in an abandoned shack with three others. In order to leave, my task was to kill one of them. The first was a large man who boasted his fighting skills, but after I spoke with him he proved to be quite the coward. The second was a mother who was quite… demanding. The third was a Khajiit who admitted to bedding many women and then leaving them."

Hiemdall grinned. "I bet you killed the first guy."

"You're right." Aldren examined his nails. "And the other two."

I facepalmed.

"Most of my escapades are not well-known, but the highlight of my time with the Dark Brotherhood was the assassination of Emperor Tidus Mede II. A good man. I killed the man who employed our services later because the Emperor asked me to. I'm a sucker for a dying person's wish." While we all stared at Aldren in shock, he continued. "Oh, and one of the members in the Dark Brotherhood bit me. I'm a Vampire, but I haven't drank anyone's blood. Except Javin's."

"Why just mine?!" Javin demanded.

"Two here are Werewolves (no offence, Taryn, but your blood reeks like Hiemdall's), one is an Argonian whose blood doesn't satisfy me, and I've just met the Khajiit. You were the best choice. Honestly, you should be flattered."

"You drank my _blood_ you Elven bastard!"

"My blood 'doesn't satisfy you'?" Milos repeated.

Aldren rolled his eyes. "You were bleeding once, so while I was tending to your wounds I had a little taste. Don't overreact."

In the corner, Cha'qim was grinning at us. "Cha'qim is a thief," she said simply. "She is good at what she does, and she enjoys it. She is a Nightengale, and leads the Thieves Guild. Her life is just that simple."

"Lucky," I grumbled.

Hiemdall rubbed his stubble. "Well, I came to the Companions when I was a young lad. Kodlak was like a father to me and taught me all I needed to know. I grew up with the current Companions, so we're all like a family." He shrugged, much like Javin had. "That's about it."

Aldren had definitely told his story the best of all of us.

"Now that we have gotten to know each other," Cha'qim said, "it is Cha'qim's wish to follow this strange band. She will offer whatever aid she can for you. What is it that you are all doing, anyhow?"

"We're fighting Dragons and saving Tamriel, basically," I explained bluntly.

"She likes this endeavour!" Cha'qim stood up. "Cha'qim has many friends who owe her many debts. She will look into them and see if she cannot get everyone a horse for a decent price. Also, a safehouse would do well. If Taryn really does change at the full moon, it will be needed. Many safehouses, perhaps, just-in-case."

"The Companions can always supply one," Hiemdall agreed.

"The Dark Brotherhood is no stranger to Werewolves. I will let my second-in-command know to keep something at the ready," Aldren chipped-in.

Javin smiled. "Werewolves are a mystery to the Mages, but I can possibly supply a safehouse. My own house, to be exact. If you do turn at a full moon, then it will give me a chance to study and examine you and try to think of a cure. Hircine is not one without a back-up plan, after all."

"Kodlak's been looking for a cure for years," Hiemdall offered. "You could collaberate with him."

"Good idea." Javin rounded on Aldren. "And you, Aldren! Drink the blood of a rabbit, for Stendarr's sake!"

"Do I _look_ like a veggie-Vampire? That's like asking a Nord to give up mead!" Aldren argued.

"I might as well turn you into a vegetable if you keep drinking my blood!"

Aldren sighed. "Fine. I'll find something else."

Cha'qim grinned. "See, Taryn? Everything is fine. You do not have to look so defeated. Until your bones are dust and your blood is dry, you cannot be defeated, yes? Cha'qim is sure of it."


	24. A Visitor

Chapter Twenty-Three:

A Visitor

I bought new gear in Dragon's Bridge to replace the things I'd lost. I'd even decided to upgrade, but I kept the simple clothes that Javin had given me. I didn't know when I'd need them next, and I certainly didn't want to buy new equipment all the time in case of...

Anyway, it was pretty apparent (once we'd started on the road to Riften) that Milos was definitely avoiding me. Why else could he, besides what had happened the night before? I felt ashamed just having him around. He was making me want to drown myself. But he also made me angry. Why would he be avoiding me because of _that_?! When had _I_ ever ignored him because I was afriad?! Milos had never given me a reason to hate him.

But maybe... maybe this new thing was too much for him. It wasn't just taking a toll on him though. Maybe he could just ask how I felt about it, because I could write a friggin' book about it! He wasn't even looking me in the eye anymore...

Our trip to Riverwood took longer than we'd thought. A long day was spent in complete silence, except for the stuff in our packs that rattled and moved with our speed. We set-up camp for the night; the first time since I'd gotten into Skyrim. I missed camping under the stars of Cyrodiil, but Skyrim's was the best I could get at the moment.

Javin stoked the fire while Hiemdall and Cha'qim decided to hunt for food so we wouldn't waste our entire supply. Milos was poking a stick he'd found into the fire, his eyes glazed as he thought. Aldren sat with his back to the fire, gazing out into the darkness. He was taking first-watch.

I laid my head onto a rock and started up at the sky. It was a beautiful night, with no clouds. The stars shone brightly, lights danced across the sky... But the only thing that lessened my mood when I looked at the sky was the moon. I was worried about what'd happen when it became full. Did I really have no control over that _thing_? I hoped it wasn't the case. The moon that night was waxing, and a half-moon. I didn't have much time to get a safehouse. Even though Hiemdall had wanted us to go to Whiterun to see if Kodlak had made a breakthrough in his research towards curing such a thing, but the Thalmor were after Esbern, and we'd wasted enough time. The old man was our first priority, but we still had to let Delphine know what we were doing, so we were going to Riverwood rather than Riften. I'd lose more time.

Gods, time was always on my mind now. I worried every moment. I had trouble acting like I once had. So much anxiety and fear was balled up inside of me that I couldn't dream of walking into a town, but I still had to. I sighed, closing my eyes to shield my vision from that forboding orb in the sky. Nothing I could do about it, and I hated it.

"Someone's coming," Aldren murmured. "Not sneaking. They're quite clumsy, actually."

We waited in silence as the wanderer came closer. Finally emerging into the light of our campfire, a Nord man with a clean-shaven face and short blonde hair studied us with his blue eyes. He smiled at us, hefting a small sack further onto his shoulder.

"Hello there!" he greeted. "I'm sorry for the intrusion, but would you spare some room at your fire? I'm rather lost. I don't know how to make a fire, and I don't have any equipment for camping."

I nodded to Aldren, who nodded to the Nord. "Of course. There are others joining us yet, if you don't mind a large group."

"Not at all. I'll take what I can get." The Nord let out a breath of relief as he plopped down beside the fire to warm himself. "Thank-you all. Need any entertainment? I'm a bard, and I was hired to get to a wedding to play, but I got lost when I was chased off the road by bandits."

"What songs do you know?" Javin asked with a smile.

"Ragnar the Red, the Age of Aggression, the Dragonborn Comes—."

"Age of Aggression," I said immediately.

The Nord laughed. "Not a fan of the others?"

"I don't know Ragnar the Red, but the other one annoys me."

"Heard it too many times, eh?" The Nord shrugged and pulled out a lute from the sack he'd placed by the fire. As he was stringing it, he smiled at me. It didn't take a genius to know he was trying to get "friendly" with me. "Do you play?"

"I took some lessons," I admitted.

I heard Milos snort. He probably thought I was lying, but it was the truth. After he'd left, I found something to occupy myself.

"I usually play the flute so I won't have to sing," the bard said. "What if I played some of the melody so you can sing and use the lute?"

"What if you just stabbed me in the ears?" Milos quipped. "Taryn couldn't sing if her life depended on it!"

I frowned. So that stupid lizard ignores me for an entire day, and then insults me?! Not on my watch!

I stood up and took the lute from the bard and sat down on the rock that my head had previously been laying on. I tuned it carefully while the bard rummaged through his things to get his flute. He grabbed it and then held it triumphantly to me.

"Ready?" he asked.

I shot a glare at Milos and cleared my throat, suddenly nervous. I strummed the lute quickly at first to get my bearings on it, but slowed once I got used to it.

_"__We drink to our youth, to days come and gone._  
_For the age of aggression is just about done._  
_We'll drive out the Stormcloaks and restore what we own._  
_With our blood and our steel we'll take back our home._  
_Down with Ulfric! The killer of kings!_  
_On the day of your death we'll drink and we'll sing._  
_We're the children of Skyrim, and we fight all our lives._  
_And when Sovngarde beckons, every one of us dies!_  
_But this land is ours and we'll see it wiped clean._  
_Of the scourge that has sullied our hopes and our dreams."_

When I'd stopped strumming and the bard had finished with his flute, he grinned at me.

"How many times have you heard that tune?" he asked.

I shrugged. "Once."

"Good memory." The Nord gladly accepted his lute back. "Good voice too. Ever wanted to be a bard?"

I snorted. "Sorry, but that's honestly the last thing I'm thinking about right now."

The Nord shrugged and extended a hand. "I'm Stom."

"Taryn Greystone," I said, shaking his hand. "The Arognian over there's Milos, the Dunmer is Aldren Ebor, and the Redguard is Javin Kelco. There are two others in the woods right now. A Nord named Hiemdall Jorgenson, and a Khajiit named Cha'qim."

"Present," the Khajiit exclaimed as she came into the bounds of the fire. "Hiemdall went for a run, so Cha'qim decided to bring our findings back."

"What the hell would he need a run for?" I grumbled, and then mentally facepalmed. _Oh, right,_ I thought so Stom wouldn't hear me. _He's a Werewolf. I have to get used to that..._

Cha'qim smiled, flashing white fangs. "Four rabbits. Hiemdall told Cha'qim that he heard we had company, so we got one more."

"Ah, thank-you," Stom said. Cha'qim and Javin began to fasten the rabbits around a home-made spit when Stom decided to break our still-uneasy silence. "So... what would a motley crew like you all be doing? Adventurers, perhaps? Or are you some sort of bandit clan?"

Milos chuckled, the sound of it deep in his chest, but somehow loud enough for us all to hear. Even Aldren cracked a smile. But now that some of my attention was on the assassin, I could see how tense he was. Was the bard really threatening him that much?

"I guess we'd be closer to adventurers," I told him.

Stom smirked. "I got confused. I mean, you look like you belonged to a bandit clan, at least. Where'd you get that scar?"

I frowned. My scar was still sensative, so it caused me a bit of pain. I resisted the urge to wince from it.

"Nowhere." Ah, the typical "don't-talk-to-me-about-it" answer.

Stom dropped the subject and began to inspect his lute. We listened to the crackling fire for a while before Aldren turned to look at the Nord.

"You said you were going to play at a wedding?" he inquired.

Stom nodded, grinning at the Dark Elf. "A large wedding, at that! Shame I've gotten lost!"

"Wouldn't happen to be the wedding of Vittoria Vici and Asgeir Snow-Shod?"

"Heard about that? Yeah, I'm to be their bard."

Aldren snorted and stood up. His hands lowered onto the hilts of his glass daggers. "How long have you been lost, Nord?"

"I don't know. Lost track of the time."

"And yet here you are." Aldren started to slide his daggers out of their sheathes. I stood up, holding a hand out in warning. Aldren ignored it. "Vittoria Vici was killed more than four weeks ago by a gargoyle that fell on top of her as she and her fiance were saying their vows."

Stom's eyes widened. "Really?! That's terrible!"

"And to be lost in the wilderness of Skyrim for weeks without stumbling upon any settlements is just too much," Aldren growled. "You've had a fresh change of clothes within the last two days. Your bag only holds musical instruments. Somehow, I find it curious."

"I was chased off the road by bandits—!"

Aldren pressed the glass daggers against Stom's throat. The bard slowly stood and began to back away. Fire erupted into Javin's hands as Cha'qim drew her longsword and dagger. Milos put his hand on the grip of his greatsword. All eyes were on the bard.

Stom sighed. "Ah, well. I should've known that she'd have gotten someone like you along."

"Who are you?!" Aldren demanded.

Stom was still walking backwards. He smiled, but it wasn't a friendly one any longer. "Your worst nightmare." In the quickest movement I'd ever seen, Stom lunged towards Aldren. But then the "quickest movement" trophy was taken away from Stom and given to Aldren. As if he knew what Stom was about to do, Aldren ducked from his lunge and slammed both fists into Stom. The Nord staggered back, and then spat, "Vampire."

"You masked your scent," the assassin stated, "Werewolf."

My heart dropped into my stomach, but at least I had the common sense to draw my sword. My hands were shaking viciously as I locked gazes with Stom. Milos drew his greatsword out fully and held it in front of himself.

"You lot should really be careful at night," Stom mused, licking his lips. "There could be monsters lurking about." Stom grinned. "But I see you have some in your company already."

I froze. "Take that back," I growled.

Stom smirked and then punched Aldren in the face. As the assassin was recovering from the blow, Stom dove overtop of Cha'qim, evading her blades, and then had me by my neck. Never mind. Aldren had to give the trophy back.

I brought my sword down, hoping to cut his arm off, but he flicked it away and spun me around, holding my neck with the crook of his elbow. He was cutting-off my air. I struggled in his grasp.

"Take one more step and Taryn Greystone will be no more than a body," he growled. When no one moved, he smiled. I cringed when he started to sniff my neck. "Ooh. Finally, a decent female. I was beginning to wonder if there were any left in Skyrim."

"Let go...!" I struggled more, but Stom's hold remained firm. Bastard!

"Hircine wanted one of his best to find a suitable mate!" Stom laughed. "It's a great feeling when one fulfills his master's wish!"

"So, Hircine is behind this?" Javin smirked. "That Prince owes me a favour, dog."

Stom made a sound in his chest that resembled a growl, but his hold on me loosened. I gulped all the air I could get, in case he decided to start choking me again.

"It's not just for Hircine. It's also for me. And I'm not giving this bitch up!" he said, the growl evident in his voice. "Follow if you want, I'll just kill—."

A huge mass slammed into us, knocking Stom and I to the ground. I rolled a few feet away from Stom and stopped on my back, staring up to the sky. I shook my head and rolled gently onto my stomach, breathing as much as I could.

A Werewolf had Stom pinned to the ground. It was a massive thing, definitely larger than Aela had been, and seemed to be stronger. Its yellow eyes glared at Stom hatefully as it growled, showing obvious displeasure. I was about eighty-percent sure it was Hiemdall.

A roar tore out of Stom's throat as he managed to get Hiemdall off of him, though how, I had no idea. Hiemdall didn't hesitate to leap at Stom once more and tackle him away from the light of the fire. The two tore each other up, though I couldn't see them doing it. Milos grabbed the neck of my leather armour and hefted me up into a standing position, all of our eyes watching the darkness warily.

"You okay?" Milos asked quickly.

I nodded. "That was creepy. Remind me never to let anyone smell me again."

We heard a whine. Hiemdall staggered into the light of the campfire, a clawed hand holding his muzzle. Blood was pouring out of all sorts of wounds on his body.

"Hiemdall!" I hurried towards him, but was forced to a stop when another Werewolf, somehow bigger than Hiemdall, blocked my way. It growled at me, towering overtop of me. "Oh, shit."

Milos charged forward, yelling a battle-cry. Aldren leapt over the spit of the forgotten rabbit carcasses and spun his daggers. Cha'qim threw her dagger at Stom, which embedded itself into his side while Javin quickly mumbled for spells.

I was knocked onto my back with relative ease, and then (while ignoring everything else) Stom grabbed my shoulder with a clawed hand and began to drag me. Sweeping his other arm around, he hit Milos in the face, but not before Milos managed to sink his greatsword into Stom's arm. Stom roared and swiped at Aldren, who was getting too close to him. Aldren had to leap back, but Stom nicked his chest with his claws, tearing through his armour like butter. Cha'qim leapt onto his back and raked him with her claws, ignoring her own sword. Stom latched onto the Khajiit and threw her off of him, into Milos and Javin.

Stom dragged me into the woods, further away from my companions. I summoned fire magicka into my palms and aimed the spell at Stom, but he didn't like it when his fur caught fire. Stom launched me into a tree. I slammed into it, hard, and slid down in a daze. A sound came from Stom's muzzle that resembled a laugh.

I grinned at him. "Laugh now, you son of a bitch. You won't be soon."

Stom moved quickly towards me and sunk his teeth into my already-wounded shoulder. I screamed as he dragged his fangs around, tearing up more of my flesh. It burned like I'd spilt acid on myself, shook salt into my wounds, doused myself in poison and leapt into a fire all at once. I grabbed a tuft of Stom's fur, all by his neck, and pulled him away from me. Stom howled and bit at my hand. I released him before he could bite me again.

I smiled at him as his yellow eyes met my green. _**"Fus Ro Dah!"**_

Stom was catapulted backwards into trees, but he broke through them. I hoped it hurt more. He landed in a crumpled heap, whining in pain. I shakily got to my feet as Stom was. I could already hear my companions coming. I took a few steps forward, and then Stom ran at me.

_**"Fus Ro Dah!"**_ I repeated.

Stom managed to evade the brunt of my Shout, but he still rolled and fell backwards. And yet, he got up again.

"Don't you ever give up?!" I yelled. _**"FUS RO DAH!"**_

Stom was blasted away, and this time, when he landed, he stayed down. I collapsed onto my knees. The Shouts drained me, more than I'd thought. Especially the last one. My breath was coming in ragged gasps and my throat was raw, but I could hear my companions.

But the pain got to me before they did.

I screamed in agony, my already pained throat feeling like it could collapse. I cris-crossed my arms around me, as if I could hold everything in. It was unbelievable! Just like—.

_NO!_ I thought, panicked. _No, no, no! No way! This can't be happening!_

So many thoughts raced through my head. If I could just focus on one, I could probably stop it. Maybe. I had no idea!

"Taryn?!" Milos' voice carried through the trees. "Where are you?!"

I bit my tongue, drawing blood. Maybe they wouldn't find me. I needed to concentrate. I didn't want to hurt anyone. I didn't want anything like that to happen, especially not to the people who'd pledged their allegiances, their loyalties, and their lives to me!

I just wanted to sit still, hope that I could ride the pain and get over it, but I needed to focus. If a million thoughts were racing through my head, and one of them contained the knowledge that my friends were coming this way, I needed to leave.

I got up and ran. I needed to find a way to think of one thing. I slammed myself into a tree, as if a different sort of pain could help. No such luck. I released a muffled cry as my ribs started to break, one by one, but I continued on. Tears streaked down my face as the pain only intensified, but soon I got an idea.

I found a stream! One deep enough that I could shove my face into! If air became the soul thing I had to think about, then maybe I could supress... _this_!

I pushed my face into the water and held it there with one of my hands. My screams helped me to lose air, which only brought me closer to my goal. When one of my legs broke, I screamed harder. A thought tickled the back of my mind. I needed to bring my head up for air. I ignored it.

Seconds later, the thought returned, more urgent this time. I beat it and shoved it into a corner of my head. I hoped that my crazy-ass idea would work. And then it came again, and my body almost listened to it. Somehow, my willpower was just a bit stronger than that thought. My lungs burned for air, and that became the only pain I knew. I'd take it over what my body was going through.

I had to resist bringing my head up for air. It wasn't easy. My muscles bunched up, begging me to come up for air. In a few seconds, I would. I would! But I had to make sure—!

A hand grabbed my good shoulder and tugged me away from the stream. I coughed and sputtered, water escaping my lungs and air replacing it. I felt relief wash ovre me as the pain subsided. I was still _me_. I was still Taryn.

My breathing eventually became normal as I laid on my back. Hiemdall's huge wolfen face blocked my view of the sky. His eyes were full of worry, even if they weren't the eyes I recognized.

I laughed. I laughed and laughed and laughed. It was all I could do. I just hoped that my ribs were back in place and my leg was normal. I didn't want to go adventuring on a broken leg.

Hiemdall let out a sound like a laugh. He was laughing with me, though I didn't know why. He probably didn't know why I was laughing, either. Not that it mattered.

"Thanks," I murmured. "You saved my butt."

Hiemdall was probably smiling. I couldn't really tell. He lowered his head and pressed his wet nose against my forehead.

"I owe you." I reached up and petted his head. "Don't tell anyone I was drowning myself though."

Hiemdall laughed again.


	25. The Ratway

Chapter Twenty-Four:

The Ratway

We arrived in Riverwood at midday the next day. Javin managed to patch my shoulder up with magicka the previous night while I worked on Hiemdall's wounds. Some of them would become scars, and even though Hiemdall was still in his big and hairy form, I could tell he was pretty proud of it. I could only shake my head. Hiemdall and Milos were probably seperated at birth.

The Sleeping Giant Inn wasn't crowded, so we had no trouble making our way to the secret room where Delphine would be waiting. Aldren and Cha'qim didn't want to go down the stairs with us because they didn't want too many people to be down there, so they stood guard.

Delphine was haunched over the enchantment table, though she wasn't doing any enchanting. As soon as we entered the secret room, Delphine left it and gravitated towards the main table, crossing her arms.

"You made it out alive, at least," she remarked though she sounded relieved. "You gear's safe in my room, as promised." _Oh. Right. Forgot she was holding onto my things for me._ "Did you learn anything useful?"

"The Thalmor know nothing about the Dragons," I said.

"Really?" Delphine's eyebrows rose. "That seems hard to believe. You're sure about that?"

I frowned. "Why'd you send me if you weren't going to believe me?"

Delphine uncrossed her arms. "You're right, you're right. I just... I was sure it must have been them. If not the Thalmor, who? Or... what?"

"I don't know." Delphine looked at me, as if I'd just told her I was about to have a Dragon baby. "But the Thalmor are looking for someone named Esbern."

"Esbern?" The Blade didn't hide her smile. "He's alive? I thought the Thalmor must have got him years ago. That crazy old man..." Delphine shook her head. "Figures the Thalmor would be on his trail, though, if they were trying to find out what's going on with the Dragons."

"What would the Thalmor want with Esbern?"

Delphine snorted. "You mean, aside from wanting to kill every Blade they can lay their hands on? Esbern was one of the Blades archivists, back before the Thalmor smashed us during the Great War. He knew everything about the ancient Dragonlore of the Blades. Obsessed with it, really. Nobody paid much attention back then. I guess he wasn't as crazy as we all thought."

"They seem to think he's hiding out in Riften," I told her.

"Riften, eh?" Delphine scratched her head. "Probably in the Ratway, then. It's where I'd go. You'd better get to Riften. Talk to Brynjolf. He's... well-connected. A good starting point at least." Delphine smiled. "Oh, and when you find Esbern... if you think _I'm_ paranoid... you may have some trouble getting him to trust you. Just ask him where he was on the 30th of Frostfall. He'll know what it means."

I nodded, and so Javin, Milos, Hiemdall and I ascended the stairs. Once Aldren and Cha'qim had joined us and we left the Sleeping Giant, the Khajiit flashed her pearl-white fangs at me.

"So, Dragonborn," she remarked with a smirk, "where to now?"

I frowned at her, but dropped whatever I was going to say. I just didn't feel like confrontations today. "We have to get to Riften and talk to Brynjolf," I told her. "You live there. D'you know him?"

Cha'qim laughed. "What fortune you have, Taryn! Know him?! Brynjolf is Cha'qim's second-in-command! Good man!"

"Well, that just made it a million times easier." I sighed. "I have a feeling that it's going to make-up for it later."

Nothing eventuful happened on our way to Whiterun to hire a wagon. Except for the odd look from other travellers at us. We didn't exactly blend in. About my things that Delphine had taken... I'd get them later. I didn't want to get tired and end up moving slowly because of all the crap in my pack.

Hiemdall sat beside me on the wagon ride. Milos sat as far away from me as he could. So much for being concerned about me yesterday. Not like I cared. At least, I think I didn't. I would catch myself watching him, hoping that he would make eye-contact and we could talk. Just talk. Just do _something_. I lost count of the amount of times I sighed on the inside.

"You okay?" Hiemdall's voice brought me back to myself. His shoulder gently nudged mine to ensure he had my attention.

I nodded. "Fine," I mumbled.

"Ribs and leg?" he whispered so no one else would hear.

I nodded again. Unfortunately, somehow, Milos had heard us. He watched us closely, examining us both before he opened his mouth to speak.

"What about 'em?" Milos asked.

I shut my mouth and watched the road ahead of us. Luckily, the wagon driver had stuffed candlewax into his ears earlier. The old man had told me it was so he wouldn't eavesdrop on anyone. Apparently, it was a habit his wife wanted him to kick.

"Taryn..." Milos' voice was low in warning.

I hesitated. Hiemdall wouldn't tell. It wasn't his thing to tell, and he knew that. "You heard me Shout last night?"

"Yep. Hard to miss."

I cleared my throat. "I... got really weak after that, and..."

Milos' eyes widened. He understood, regardless of how I'd finished the sentance. A close call. Not that it mattered to him. Milos turned his head away from me, rested his chin on the heel of his hand, rested his elbow on his knee and said nothing else.

And. I. _Hated_ it.

"That's it?" I snorted. "Nothing? Why do I even bother to tell you these things?"

The words had launched themselves out of my mouth before I could tackle them and secure them. Milos' eyes flickered towards me, but then he pretended he didn't hear me.

"You told me about your parents, Milos," I continued, suddenly without a desire to stop the words. "You told me what you found out about them. You told everyone here. So, since that l'il thing's out in the open, answer me a question: did you hate them for what they were?"

Milos' lip curled slightly, but he didn't answer. I doubted he would.

"Do you hate were-creatures? For what they did to your parents, and for what your parents turned in to?" Milos continued to look away from me. "Do you hate me, Milos?"

Milos deliberated, choosing his words carefully. "No," he said quietly. That was it.

That. Was. It. Nothing else. No reason, no arguement. Nothing.

"Is that the best you can do?" Milos' continued silence made me sigh. His answer... I felt like, put plainly, it wasn't an honest one. "Fine."

I'd already made up my mind. I'd present Milos with an ultimatum. I guess it'd show if he really was my friend, or if he hated me enough to turn his back on me. I didn't want him to. I prayed he wouldn't. I hoped the Nine would hear those prayers, regardless of how I'd never payed any attention in chapel when I was younger.

Riften loomed in the distance. I breathed, thinking of the words and trying to put them together in a way that (I hoped) would convince Milos that I needed him. I needed my best friend, especially now that he was the last connection I had to the "true" Taryn Greystone, who had grown up in Anvil.

The wagon stopped in front of the main gates. Milos hopped off first and looked at the walls, faking his admiration of architecture. I clenched and unclenched my fists, hoping that I could at least _fake_ confidence.

"Milos," I said quietly as I approached him from behind, "we need to talk."

"There's nothing really to talk—."

"Yes there is." I took a deep breath. "Milos, if you hate me so much, if you hate what I _am_ so much, then there's no point in you being here to make me feel worse about this."

I had his full attention now. The massive Argonian looked me dead in the eye, as if he couldn't believe I'd just said what I'd said.

"I don't understand it or like it either," I continued, my voice quiet and shaking. "I'm terrified of it. But I'll find a way to deal with it. And if you can't deal with it, if you can't at least pretend I exist anymore, then you should leave." I hefted my pack onto my shoulder. "I'm going to get Esbern. If you're not at the wagon when we're leaving for Riverwood again, then I'll understand. Just make a decision."

Milos stayed behind while the rest of us entered Riften. I looked back over my shoulder only once to see his hands placed on his hips, his head low, his eyes glaring at the dirt.

"Hold there," a guard said suddenly, his violet regaila sticking out proudly. "Before I let you into Riften, you need to pay the visitors tax—."

"Cha'qim has come here before, guard," the Khajiit purred. When the guard saw her, he suddenly shrank back. "Don't tell me you forgot her already?"

"O-Oh." The guard cleared his throat. "My mistake. You're free to enter. Just don't cause trouble."

Cha'qim grinned and led the way inside, her tail swishing around contently. A Nord man with black hair watched us pass, nodding his head to Cha'qim. Surprisingly, she seemed to be pretty well-respected around Riften. Then again, she'd told us that she was the leader of the Thieves Guild.

We approached a man in the market who was trying to scam people (it was that obvious) with an elixir of some sort. When Cha'qim approached him, he smiled.

"What can I do for you, lass?" he asked.

"Brynjolf," the Khajiit said, "Cha'qim has brought friends. They are searching for a man named Esbern. Would you know where he is?"

Brynjolf scratched his stubble. He had red hair, which seemed rare for a Nord. "No. I don't. Talk to Vekel. I'm sure he'll have some information. If he's hiding in the Ratway, Vekel's your man."

We thanked him and followed Cha'qim down to the Ratway. Aldren looked longingly at a building we passed on the way, which had children's laughter eminating from it.

"Good times," he mumbled.

I could only imagine what was on _his_ mind.

The Ratway was dank and musty. I could hear water dripping somewhere, but with the echoes that rang in this place, it would be hard to pinpoint. It had been built with stone, but if it had been taken care of before, it didn't show. Dirt and mud looked common. At least, I _hoped_ it was dirt and mud.

Hiemdall pinched his nose. "Smells like skeever," he grumbled.

"The Thieves Guild kills skeevers regularily down here," Cha'qim replied, shrugging. "Cha'qim is not surprised."

The Khajiit led us down through the Ratway. I barely looked at anything. My eyes could see where I was going, but my mind was somewhere else entirely. I only really noticed that we crossed a drawbridge. I felt like, maybe, giving Milos an ultimatum wasn't the best thing I could've done.

_Too late now,_ I thought, stifling a sigh. _He does what he does._

Cha'qim opened a door and we emerged into a huge underground room, complete with a giant basin of water in its centre. Stores sat comfortably in holes made specially for them, and as we were being careful not to slip into the water, their owners tried to sell us their wares.

"Vekel!" Cha'qim called. "I need some information!"

"Cha'qim!" Vekel was a tall Nord man with brown hair, moustache and soul patch who manned the bar by the basin of water. It was like a tavern, to be honest. Vekel's eyes swiftly examined us before he smiled to Cha'qim. "What do you need?"

"I'm looking for an old guy, hiding out somwhere in Riften," I told him.

Vekel scratched his chin. "Huh. Lot of old guys around. I don't really know how I can help."

"I need to talk to him. I'm a friend. His life's in danger!" I pleaded.

"That's a touching story," Vekel remarked. "Now get out of my face!"

"Woah, Vekel!" Brynjolf came up from behind us and placed a hand on my shoulder. "They're the Guildmaster's guests, and they're looking for information. Luckily, I finally remembered who he is and where they're looking for him." Brynjolf took us away from the bar and pointed at a door. "He's in the Ratway Warrens. The old man comes here every-so-often to get supplies, but I'd be careful if I were you. The Warrens are crawling with a lot of things that just shouldn't be there."

Cha'qim grinned. "Get your memory checked, friend. If your head's deteriorating, Cha'qim can't run this place by herself. Cha'qim hates wild goose chases. She prefers smaller birds."

"Aye, lass. Speaking of deteriorating..." Brynjolf smiled. "How're your skills? I hear that the Thalmor caught a certain grey-furred Khajiit."

"Cha'qim was... comprimised," she grumbled, rubbing the back of her furry head. "For the time being, she has pledged the help of the guild to the Imperial who saved her. Taryn is trustworthy, and has talents as a theif as well."

"If Cha'qim trusts you, then I trust you," Brynjolf said. "Go after Esbern. I have a bad feeling that someone else is chasing him too."

"Thanks, Brynjolf!" We didn't waste any time. We charged through the door Brynjolf had pointed us to: to the Ratway Warrens.


	26. A Cornered Rat

Chapter Twenty-Five:

A Cornered Rat

As soon as we entered a levelled chamber, we encountered three Thalmor. Their wizard was the first to reach us, but Javin made quick work of the High Elf. A total and complete, "my-wizard-is-better-than-your-wizard" situation.

"There's the Blades agent!" one of the Thalmor yelled. "Kill her!"

"I don't appreciate being attacked every time I turn a friggin' corner!" I yelled back. "By the Nine...!"

We ran into a tunnel to meet our next adversary. The Thalmor soldier charged at us, his elven blade raised high above his head. Aldren rushed forward and slit his exposed throat in a blur of motion. As we continued, we dodged arrows from another soldier. Suffice to say, his ass was mine.

I drew my sword and plunged it deep into his chest, though it had some difficulty getting through his armour. When I was certain he was dead, I planted my foot on his chest and yanked the blade out.

"The soldier has good loot," Cha'qim remarked. "So did the other Thalmor."

I nodded my head in agreement. "Take what you want and we'll continue. We don't know how far ahead the Thalmor are."

"You've got no problem looting bodies?" Aldren asked.

"They're dead now; they won't be using anything."

Once we'd grabbed what we needed (the Thalmor I'd just killed had a really nice-looking ebony bow, and a new ebony sword. I counted my blessings), we hurried down the tunnels through the Ratway. At one point, we had to drop through a hole in order to get to the door we were looking for.

We were met with not-entirely-sane nattering and the sounds of someone eating ravenously. Taking care to avoid the doors we heard the sounds from when we entered the next room, I led the way up the steps and to another door that looked... Okay, put lightly, it looked guarded.

I knocked on the door. We waited patiently for only a few seconds before an old Nord man with a completely white long goatee slid open a peek-hole.

The old man snarled venomously. "Go away!"

"Esbern?" He frowned at the name. "Open the door. I'm a friend."

"What?! No, that's not me. I'm not Esbern. I don't know what you're talking about."

"Look; the Thalmor have found you," I told him urgently. "You need to get out of here."

Esbern snorted and rolled his eyes. "Oh, how reassuring! Most likely you're with the Thalmor and this is just a trick to get me to open the door!"

"Delphine needs your help to stop the Dragons!" I argued.

Esbern's eyes, for a second, shone with recognition. "Delphine?" he repeated. "How do you...? This is just a trick to get me to open the door, eh? I told you to go away!"

Esbern slammed the peek-hole shut, but not before I'd jammed my fingers in it. I bit back the pain as Aldren and Cha'qim giggled at me, and Esbern yelled something profane.

"Delphine said to 'remember the 30th of Frostfall'!" I exclaimed.

The peek-hole opened slightly, but I didn't remove my fingers. I didn't know if it was a ploy or not.

"Ah," the old Nord remarked. "Indeed, indeed. I do remember." I removed my fingers and rubbed them while the rest of the peek-hole opened. "Delphine really is alive, then? You'd better come in and tell me how you found me and what you want."

Esbern slowly shut the peek-hole. "This'll just take a moment..." he continued. "This one always sticks... there we go." Our jaws slowly gave in to gravity as Esbern began to unlock his door. We lost count of the locks. "Only a couple more." After an eternity, Esbern exclaimed, "There we are! Come in, come in! Make yourselves at home!"

As soon as we all stepped in (after collecting our jaws), Esbern grabbed some chairs. I sat on a bale of hay in the corner, more comfortable with that than anything else. Esbern's home/hideout was quaint, filled with alchemical ingredients and books, and it was well-lit. His bed was in the corner, and the sheets honestly looked older than I was.

"That's better," he said as he stiffly sat down in one of his seats. "Now we can talk." Esbern looked at me, probably deciding that I was the person to talk to, since I'd been the one to speak to him first. "So Delphine keeps up the fight, after all these years. I thought she'd have realized it's hopeless by now. I tried to tell her, years ago..."

I wanted to ask him why he thought it was hopeless, but then I realized that we were probably running out of time until the Thalmor tried to break through his million locks.

"The Thalmor have found you. We have to get out of here," I said urgently.

"Yes, yes, so you said." The old Nord shrugged. "But so what? The end is upon us. I may as well die here as anywhere else. I'm tired of running."

I couldn't stop my curiousity this time. "What do you mean, 'the end is upon us'?"

Esbern rolled his eyes. "Haven't you figured it out yet? What more needs to happen before you all wake up and see what's going on?" Esbern met all of our eyes, and declared, "Alduin has returned, just like the prophecy said! The Dragon from the dawn of time, who devours the souls of the dead! No one can escape his hunger, here or in the afterlife! Alduin will devour all things and the world will end! Nothing can stop him!" Esbern hung his head, gently sliding his hands down his face. "I tried to warn them," he said quietly. "They wouldn't listen. Fools. It's all come true... all I could do was watch our doom approach..."

Javin leaned forward. "You're talking about the literal end of the world?"

"Oh, yes. It's all been foretold. The end has begun. Alduin has returned." Esbern looked crestfallen. "Only a Dragonborn can stop him. But no Dragonborn has been known for centuries." Everyone but Esbern turned their head towards me, but I shook my head. Mostly because I didn't like what I was hearing. Esbern continued, undaunted. "It seems the Gods have grown tired of us. They've left us to our fate, as the plaything of Alduin the World-Eater."

"It's not hopeless, Esbern," I assured him. "I'm... uh, Dragonborn."

Esbern's eyes snapped up to meet mine. "What? You're... can it really be true? Dragonborn?" He grinned. "Then... there _is_ hope! The Gods have _not_ abandoned us! We must... we must... We must go, quickly now. Take me to Delphine. There is much to discuss." Carefully, the old Nord stood up. "But give me... just a moment... I must gather a few things..."

I was examining the new ebony blade I got while Esbern rambled and searched for the things he wished to bring. Cha'qim stood up to help, and Hiemdall was quick to look through the peek-hole to see if any Thalmor were coming. Aldren sat quietly while Javin wrote something in a notebook he'd had tucked in his robes. I wondered where the Mage had gotten his quill and ink.

"Well, I guess that's good enough," Esbern said as he walked to the door. "Let's be off."

Hiemdall stuck out his arm to prevent Esbern from leaving. "Thalmor," the Companion mouthed to me.

We were quick to extinguish the fires inside of Esbern's hideout. The locks were still unlocked. I formulated a plan.

"Esbern, get behind me," I whispered. "Cha'qim and Aldren, strike from the shadows. Javin, use some magicka to draw them here. Hiemdall, come here and help me protect Esbern."

I assumed that everyone had nodded. It was too dark for me to see if they hadn't. Javin quietly opened the door while two Thalmor, a wizard and a soldier, were climbing the stairs. He sent out a burst of flame, one that the Thalmor wizard had sensed. Javin immediately suppressed his flames and hid in the shadows. The Thalmor wizard ignited his palms with lightning and fire while the soldier drew his elven sword.

As soon as they'd entered, they were dead. We hurried to the nearest escape, with Hiemdall at the head, Javin at the rear, while Cha'qim, Aldren and I protected Esbern. The old man seemed to have a few tricks up his sleeves though. We hurried through the Warrens, avoiding tripping on random tree roots and taking staircase steps three at a time. I wasn't keen to keep encountering the Thalmor. They always brought back a lot of bad memories and made me want to hit the nearest one.

We eventually made it to where we'd been before in the Warrens and into the small tavern in the Ratway. It was there that we could breathe a sigh of relief for not being caught or encountering any other Thalmor.

"The Ragged Flagon is always a welcoming sight," Cha'qim muttered.

_Oh. So that's the tavern's name._

We didn't exactly stop there. We left the Flagon in a hurry and retraced our steps back to the surface, into Riften. Night had already fallen. I hadn't realized how much time we'd spent down there, and I hoped we'd find a late-night carriage driver instead of waiting for the morning.

We bounded up the steps to Riften's main level. Only the lights of Mara's Temple and Riften's inn were lit, besides the Jarl's torches in the front. We all probably stank up a storm, too.

Avoiding the gaze of the guards, we made our way to the main gates. Cha'qim waved at a guard who immediately let us pass. It made me wonder just how much pull the Khajiit had in the city.

Hiemdall went to see if he could rent a carriage. While everyone else stayed with Esbern, I looked around the small stables that were against the walls of Riften. What I was trying to find wasn't there.

Hiemdall returned with good news, and we immediately loaded the wagon. We'd accomplished our mission.

But Milos was nowhere to be found.

I was alone.


	27. A Little Sidetracked

Chapter Twenty-Six:

A Little Sidetracked

It didn't take long to get to Riverwood, but it was nearly dawn. I was tired, I was upset, and I didn't want to sleep. Sleeping would give my subconscious time to think about Milos. I'd totally asked for it. He just wasn't ready to accept it. I wasn't either, and I'd forced it on him...

No, I didn't force it. _It_ was forced on _me_. It'd be easier for him to deal with than me. Milos left because of his hate for were-creatures. And I was a hereditary one.

_"I don't know where it went, but you're here. That's all that matters to me."_

Liar.

My fists clenched. Hiemdall noticed easily. No one had asked where Milos was, but everyone knew I'd talked to him before we entered Riften, so they had a pretty good idea that he probably wasn't even in Skyrim anymore. Maybe he'd gone back to Black Marsh, or Morrowind, or Cyrodiil! Not like it mattered to me. He was just gone.

We disembarked from the wagon, paying the driver extra for the night-run. The Sleeping Giant Inn looked welcoming, and I suddenly wished that I actually _would_ sleep.

Delphine met us in the tavern, as opposed to her secret room. Her arms were crossed, as usual, but they immediately went to her hips when she saw Esbern. I guessed that the gesture was her version of jumping for joy.

"Delphine!" Esbern greeted. "I... it's good to see you. It's been... a long time."

"It's good to see you, too, Esbern," Delphine replied softly (which gave me a mini heart-attack). "It's been too long, old friend. Too long." And then, she was all business again. "Well, then. You made it, safe and sound. Good. Come on, I have a place we can talk." She looked to the man sweeping the floor. "Orgnar, hold down the bar for a minute, will you?"

He placed his broom in a corner. "Yeah, sure," he grunted.

Delphine beckoned Esbern. "This way," she said.

I followed her to the secret room while the others hung back to get some rooms. I didn't blame them, but I was jealous. I didn't want to listen to Delphine, but someone had to...

"Now then," Delphine started as we descended the stairs. "I assume you know about..."

"Oh yes!" Esbern exclaimed. "Dragonborn! Indeed, yes. This changes everything, of course. There's no time to lose. We must locate... let me show you. I know I had it here, somewhere..."

Delphine rolled her eyes. "Esbern, what..."

The old Nord held up a hand. "Give me... just a moment... Ah! Here it is. Come, let me show you." Esbern placed a book on the table, which had a red back and cover. He opened it and pointed to a drawing. "You see, right here. Sky Haven Temple, constructed around one of the main Akaviri military camps in the Reach, during their conquest of Skyrim."

Delphine looked at me increduously. "Do you know what he's talking about?"

"Shh!" Esbern hissed. "This is where they built Alduin's Wall, to set down in stone all their accumulated Dragonlore. A hedge against the forgetfulness of centuries. A wise and foresighted policy, in the event. Despite the far-reaching fame of Alduin's Wall at the time—one of the wonders of the ancient world—its location was lost."

"Esbern, what are you getting at?"

"You mean... you don't mean to say you haven't heard of Alduin's Wall?" Esbern's eyes darted in-between us. "Either of you?"

"Let's pretend we haven't. What's Alduin's Wall and what does it have to do with stopping the Dragons?"

"Alduin's Wall was where the ancient Blades recorded all they knew of Alduin and his return. Part history, part prophecy. Its location has been lost for centuries, but I've found it again. Not lost, you see, just forgotten. The Blades archives held so many secrets... I was only able to save a few scraps..."

Delphine rested her hands on the table. "So you think Alduin's Wall will tell us how to defeat Alduin?"

"Well, yes, but... there's no guarantee, of course."

Delphine smiled. "Sky Haven Temple it is, then. I _knew_ you'd have something for us, Esbern. I know the area of the Reach that Esbern's talking about. Near what's now known as Karthspire, in the Karth River canyon. We can meet you there, or all travel together, your call."

I sighed. "If you're willing to wait a few hours for me to sleep, then we can travel together."

"I'd rather not wait," Delphine admitted. "Esbern and I will meet you at Karthspire while you and your companions get some rest. We'll meet you there."

I nodded. "Got it."

I was the first to exit the secret room. I had to peek into the rooms we'd rented to see where I could sleep. It turned out that Javin, Aldren and Cha'qim had bunked together. That meant Hiemdall and I had to share a room. I sighed and entered it, shrugging my bag off of my shoulders and faceplanting into my pillow.

"Finally in, eh?" Hiemdall remarked.

"Mhm." I wanted to be lazy and sleep in my armour, but I thought better of it and began to undo the belts keeping the leather firmly in place. "Where'd I put my clothes...?"

"They're in the outer-pocket," Hiemdall grumbled, turning onto his side. "You told me to remind you."

I dug through it until I found a simple shirt and slacks. "Thanks," I said.

A few moments were passed in silence before Hiemdall snickered. "You're comfortable changing in front of other people?"

I shrugged. "Living in an orphanage with twenty other kids doesn't give you room for privacy. At least if you've got something covering your private parts, you should be fine."

Hiemdall sat up on his bed and stared at me for a time. "Are you hungry?" he finally asked.

I'd lost my appetite since Milos had left, but I knew better than to refuse myself food. "I guess."

He stood up and led me out of the room just as Delphine and Esbern were leaving the secret room. Delphine was giving the inn to the man who was always sweeping. He was wishing her well when we ordered something to eat.

"Not so tired anymore?" Delphine asked.

"I can't sleep on an empty stomach," I admitted. "Best to get that out of the way..." Delphine nodded and began to leave when I suddenly remembered something. "Delphine!" I called.

The Blade turned to face me. "Yes?"

"Take your time in getting there," I advised. "I have some business in Whiterun that may take a few days, and it needs to be addressed immediately."

She definitely wasn't jumping for joy, but she nodded and wished me well, as did Esbern. Hiemdall got our plates of food (cooked venison, carrots, and some goat's milk to help it go down. I grabbed the cups) and set them down at a bench. We ate in silence. I barely tasted what was going down, partially because I was eating so quickly.

"So what business do you have in Whiterun?" Hiemdall asked, leaning his head on his arm and looking at me.

I gulped down the milk and stared hard at my plate. "I need to talk to Kodlak. There's not much time left for me before we find out if... if it's gonna happen."

Hiemdall watched me for a few seconds and then sat up straight. "It's not so bad, you know. I mean, I'm not hereditary, but you get used to it."

"I don't want to."

He rubbed his stubble in thought. "What I meant to say is that there are ways you can deal with it."

"The only way I want to deal with it is to get rid of it." I sighed. "First my parents abandon me to Anvil, and then I find out that they've left a little 'coming of age' present." I stared at my milk and swirled it around. "Maybe it would be better if I was dead."

"Then who'd be there to kill the Dragons?" Hiemdall smirked. "I wouldn't fancy my life in the hands of anyone else. You command the respect and trust of those you follow, even though you don't notice it. We follow you because we admire you."

"I don't _want_ to be admired. I don't even want to _be_ here..."

"The Gods have quite a way of working," the young Nord murmured. "Regardless of what we want, there's a little thing in our subconscious minds controlled by them, pushing us towards our destinies. Fate."

I finished my milk and stood up. "Thanks for the talk, but I need to sleep. I have too much on my mind right now."

"I'm sure Milos does too." I was halfway to the door when I stopped. "I'm sure he just needed time to clear his head. He'll come around."

I narrowed my eyes. "I hope."

It was the afternoon when we were all rested, fed, and ready to leave. We walked to Whiterun, only encountering a giant, but he realized he was on the road we wished to pass and lumbered off. I waved in thanks, and he responded in the same manner. If they weren't hostile, they were very friendly.

We didn't stop anywhere but the Jorrvaskr. The moment I stepped inside, I felt this overwhelming feeling of... I couldn't describe it properly. Everyone but Hiemdall remained in the main area to mingle with the Companions there, while I wondered if Kodlak was where he'd been before.

"He's usually in his room," Hiemdall assured me. "He contracted the rot, so he tries not to aggrivate it."

Hiemdall led me down the steps. I could feel the eyes of some of the Companions on me, but I didn't pay them any mind. It wasn't until we got downstairs that anything happened.

Aela came out of her room and leaned against the wall of the hallway, her arms crossed and her expression stern. "What's _she_ doing here?" the Companion asked, indicating me with her chin.

Two other men came out of their respective rooms and watched us. There was a pull in my chest that told me they were Werewolves as well. And twins, by the look of it.

"Aela," Hiemdall greeted, "Farkas, Vilkas, Taryn needs to talk with Kodlak."

"She shouldn't be allowed near him!" Aela growled.

I glared at her. "And why not? I'm seeking help, to see if he has any cure!"

"So this is the one you were talking about, Aela?" Vilkas asked while his brother crossed his arms over his armoured chest.

"Yeah," Aela replied to her fellow Companion. "And as for you, you shouldn't be anywhere _near_ our Harbinger! You're not even a Companion!"

"She goes to him with my authority," Hiemdall said. "It's only natural for her to—."

"She's not getting anywhere near Kodlak!" Aela stood tall, her arm tensed. She wanted to draw her bow.

I was in a defensive position before I even knew it. So was Farkas, Vilkas, and Hiemdall. It was a classic stand-off. Just as Aela's hand touched her bow, the doors at the end of the hall opened. Kodlak Whitemane strode down the hall, a firm frown on his naturally stoic face.

"Companions, withdraw!" he ordered. "No fighting in the Jorrvaskr! Not ones that intend to draw blood!" Aela reluctantly backed-down. Kodlak regarded me, recognition in his eyes. "Taryn Greystone. I remember you. What brings you back to the Jorrvaskr?"

"I think we both know the answer to that," I growled, a little more hostile than I had initially meant to be.

Kodlak's mouth became a thin line. "Ah. I see." Kodlak turned his back on me. "Follow me. Alone. We need to talk in private."

"But Kodlak—!" Aela interjected, but was silenced with a wave of the Nord's hand.

"I can still handle myself, Aela. There's no need," he assured her.

I followed Kodlak into his quarters. The old Nord sat at his desk and turned a page in a book he'd likely been reading before he came out. I closed the doors to ensure privacy.

"How do I get rid of it?" I asked, getting to the point.

Kodlak leaned back in his chair and looked at me plainly. His silver eyes darted across my figure before they settled on my face.

"I don't yet know," he admitted. "But I'm getting close. However..." Kodlak sighed. "I'm not sure if it will work for a hereditary Werewolf."

I leaned on one of the glass cases in his study housing a longsword. "Why didn't you tell me about this when I was here before?!" I pressed. "What the hell kind of medicine did you use on me?! Why get Hiemdall to watch over me?! What's Aela's problem—?!"

Kodlak silenced me by raising both his hands, seemingly in defense, but his frame was showing authority. I'd always hated seeing such a thing as a child. He slowly got to his feet and reached above his bookcase, beginning to fiddle with the hidden weapon case.

"The medicine I used was specially created by a friend I have, a High Elf named Sventius Arus—no connection with the Thalmor, I assure you—and I use it to help quell the Wolf Spirits that sometimes rise to challenge." Kodlak reached inside of the case. "Aela wishes to protect me at any cost. I was her Harbinger since she was a little girl, so it's only natural now that I'm... _sick_."

Kodlak brought out an ebony dagger from the case. It looked old, easily older than me, but it still looked sharp. Kodlak twirled it around and then handed it to me, hilt out. I grasped the hilt warily and examined it. On the pommel was a name, engraved with magicka.

"I didn't tell you what I thought you were before because I wasn't entirely sure," Kodlak continued as I read the name. "There were... many things I needed to be sure of when you came."

_Elana Victus._ That was the name on the hilt. I held it out for Kodlak to take back, but the old Nord shook his head.

"It's yours," he said. "By right, it's yours."

One of my eyebrows went up. "Why? Whose dagger is this?"

Kodlak's eyes lingered on the weapon for a while. "My wife's," he said plainly.

I put it on his desk. "Then you keep it. It's yours. She would've wanted you to—."

"No, she wouldn't." Kodlak picked up the dagger and held it out to me again. "Elana was an Imperial woman who grew up in the Great War and had a great disdain towards the Thalmor. She came to Skyrim on a mission, and we met."

"I don't see how this has anything to do with why you want me to—."

"I had just become Harbinger when we met. It was an accident, of course, since she had gotten side-tracked on her mission and captured by the enemies of the Companions. But I knew her long enough and well enough to know that she would have wanted you to have it." Kodlak pressed the dagger into my hand. "She would have wanted it given to her daughter."


	28. Surprise Attack

Chapter Twenty-Seven:

Surprise Attack

I stared at Kodlak for what seemed like an eternity. The dagger in my hand... It was my mother's? No. Impossible. Couldn't be. There was no way in Oblivion that something like that could happen.

But... if the dagger really _was_ my mother's, that meant Kodlak...

Kodlak's hands pulled away from mine and the dagger. He waited patiently as I tried to grasp my situation. Another thing I'd been forced into. I just didn't know how to react this time. As I looked at Kodlak, I noticed things I hadn't seen before. The similarity of the shape of our eyes, the natural furrow in our brows...

Maybe I was just being hopeful and finding things I hoped would connect us. That hope dimmed as I looked at him.

Because if Kodlak was my father, then the fact that I was a Werewolf was _his_ fault.

"No..." I whispered.

"Taryn—."

"_No_," I repeated, louder. "No no no no _no_! That's...! You're lying. You're a liar!"

Kodlak took a step forward. "Taryn, please listen to me—!"

"You stay away from me!" I shouted. My hand flung downward and released the dagger. It stabbed into the floor beside his foot. "You stay the hell away from me!"

"Taryn—!"

I bolted, flinging the door open and sprinting out into the hall. Hiemdall grabbed me before I could get out and held me by my arms.

"Taryn, what's wrong?" Hiemdall asked.

I was shaking. I couldn't help it. Kodlak walked slowly out of his quarters, the dagger in hand. I met his eyes and saw the sadness in them, the apology. I didn't want an apology. Did I?

"I'm sorry, Taryn," the old Nord said quietly.

Aela looked in-between us and tried to figure out what may have happened. Perhaps she was thinking that he'd told me there was no cure?

"Why didn't you ever come find me...?" I whispered.

Kodlak's silver eyes softened. "I thought you and your mother were dead. I gave up when I shouldn't have. I'm sorry."

"It's been twenty years!" I yelled. "An apology doesn't work after twenty years!"

"Doesn't it? Then I will keep apologizing every day of the rest of my life, and hope the Gods will grant that you accept it. It may sound pointless coming from an old man who doesn't have much time left, but if that's the case, I will do it twice every day. Three times—whatever you wish!"

"I don't want anything from you!" I snapped. "I've done fine for my life! Fine and dandy! And then I come to Skyrim, and all this... _shit_ happens to me!"

"What in Oblivion is she talking about?!" Farkas growled.

"Farkas, Vilkas, Aela, Hiemdall," Kodlak regarded, "Taryn's my daughter."

I clenched my fists, shaking in rage. "I'm no one's daughter!"

"That's impossible, Kodlak!" Farkas reasoned. "Werewolves have silver eyes—!"

"And yet Aela has seen her become one, and so has Hiemdall," Kodlak said, deflecting it. "She takes after her mother."

"Stop talking about me as if I'm not here!" I marched up to Kodlak. "I don't care what kind of sick jokes you think are funny, but this is too much!"

"Would you at least allow me to explain in further detail—?!"

We suddenly heard shouts coming from upstairs. Hiemdall, totally dog-like, sniffed the air.

"Silver Hand," he growled.

Everyone but Kodlak and I raced up the stairs. Kodlak returned to his quarters in a hurry. I watched him go, and then followed Hiemdall and the other Companions up the stairs. I drew my ebony blade as soon as I saw the fight. Men and women dressed in armour bandits would wear charged into the Jorrvaskr from all four doors, surrounding the Companions. I hacked my way through, killing a few men with swords I'd never seen before.

A woman came up behind me, having seen me kill her comerades, and sliced her sword up my arm. I yelled in pain as it burned through my flesh. We locked eyes for a second before horror settled on her face.

"This one too!" she screamed to her fellows.

I killed her quickly, stabbing her through the chest, and then whirled around to meet three others, two men and one woman. I was being backed-off into a corner before I realized just how skilled they were with their blades, and just how much they'd hurt if they cut me again.

A warhammer caught the woman in the side, and its momentum flung her away, a nasty bruise forming. Kodlak roared and charged at the other two. Panic flooded through me and I joined him quickly, adjusting to the swings he gave with his warhammer and catching the remaining Silver Hand members when they were most vulnerable.

And then Kodlak screamed.

I whirled around to see a man with a silver claymore pull his weapon out of Kodlak's stomach. Red blinded my sight as I leapt toward him and buried my longsword deep into his chest, falling on top of his body as I did.

Some Silver Hand members came at me, screaming at the top of their lungs. Tears fell from my face in a flurry as I cut them down and used the Voice to get them away from me; Unrelenting Force to be specific. I was on my hands and knees, heaving from over-use of the Voice, exhausted from fighting, and weary of the sadness.

The sounds of battle eventually dimmed as the Companions brought the fight outside, where the guards would assist them. I carefully crawled over to Kodlak, wounds from the Silver Hand's weapons appearing where I could have _sworn_ I'd blocked. His breathing was low and ragged, but he was still alive.

However, it was apparent that it wouldn't be for much longer.

It was a while later that everyone came in, weary and wounded. Aldren was treating a cut on Farkas, Javin was healing anyone and everyone he could, Cha'qim was wiping blood off of her sword, and Hiemdall was in a heated argument with Aela.

"... Bed..." Kodlak murmured.

"_HIEMDALL_!" I screamed.

He hurried to me, breaking off from Aela, and saw Kodlak's sorry state. Carefully, with the help of Aela, Farkas, Vilkas, Hiemdall and I, we got the old Nord downstairs into his room. Blood soaked the already red sheet of his bed, and later an old woman came in to tend to him. Her name was Tilma.

"So he can at least be a bit more comfortable..." she mumbled.

We were sitting outside of Kodlak's quarters in a heavy silence. A few of the newer Companions respectfully kept their distance, while the Circle were the closest to his door, waiting for a sign that he'd pull through. I had a sinking feeling in my stomach that the old man wouldn't be so lucky.

"Dammit..." I growled, my fists clenching together. "Who were those guys?!"

"The Silver Hand," Hiemdall said quietly, crossing his arms across his chest. "They're... not exactly friends with the Companions. They think that having a Beast Form is a taint, and they strive to eradicate it."

I snorted. "So... silver weapons?"

"Mhm." Hiemdall traced a scar on his arm, but he had to lift his armour to show me. "Got this one during my first encounter with 'em. We were avenging a fellow Circle member, named Skjor. A good man. He and Kodlak were my mentors, whereas Aela, Farkas and Vilkas became just like siblings. Not just shield-brothers and a sister."

Aela glanced at me out of the corner of her eye. "So you're Kodlak's daughter?"

I wrung my hands together. "I... I don't know. I mean, he thinks so, but I've got no idea what he's basing it on. My appearance? Please. What a stupid way..."

Hiemdall shrugged. "You never know. There've been stranger things to happen to us mortals. The Gods aren't known for how obvious they _want_ to be."

I snorted. "Well, that's great then. Because if Kodlak really is my dad then... Ugh! Wouldn't you know it? I've lost two people I should have been close to in two days. I've got a streak going."

Tilma quietly opened the doors of Kodlak's quarters. She had a ruined bedsheet in her hands that she was folding up carefully.

"He's resting now," the old woman said. "He wants to speak with you, Taryn."

My brow furrowed, but I stood up and entered his study, and then crossed into his room. If anything, Kodlak's breathing had gotten worse, and he was wrapped in bandages. There wouldn't be much use for those though.

Kodlak strained to open his eyes when he heard me enter. I dragged a chair over to his bedside and sat there for a time, my lips pressed against my intertwined hands. He had paled considerably.

"Are you there?" he asked.

I nodded. "I'm here, Kodlak."

A smile came to the old Nord's lips. "Ah. Good. I had hoped..." Kodlak broke off and pushed a notebook towards me. "My notes on... the cure. It would be best... if you had them."

I touched the notebook, but I couldn't bring myself to grab it. Kodlak's hand rested on mine. He was cold, despite the blood still running through his veins.

"Would you allow me to tell you... about your mother?" His eyes were pleading.

I nodded again. My hands were shaking.

Kodlak closed his eyes and laid his head back. I feared for a moment that he had stopped breathing, but then he inhaled and my fears were quelled. I sat still, and listened to the old Nord's tale.


	29. The Old Nord's Tale

Chapter Twenty-Eight:

The Old Nord's Tale

It's obvious that it was long before your birth that I met your mother. Like I said, she'd gotten sidetracked during a mission of hers. The Silver Hand was even a problem back then. As the new Harbinger for the Companions, it was my duty to ensure that my fellow shield-brothers and sisters were protected. I went alone though. I always figured I was better alone, despite the comradery I had with everyone.

I snuck into one of their fortresses at night and began to kill them, one by one. With my steel warhammer, no less! In my arrogance of my skills, I didn't see a member of their order sneak up on me. I was in the jail, taking care of their jailor, when I heard someone speak.

"Behind you."

The voice did not come from behind me, and yet I whirled around, swinging my warhammer with all my might. A Silver Hand member died by a blow to the head from my attack. I was grateful for the help, else I'd have been dead.

So I looked around and eventually found her in a cell. An Imperial, by the looks of her, with long brown hair tied back into a ponytail, vibrant green eyes, and she had the most curious frown on her face. Her arms crossed disdainfully.

"Etch the image into your brain with magicka," she growled. "It'll last longer."

I was snapped out of my stupour and smashed the lock on the cell. "Sorry," I said quickly as I opened the door.

Her frown vanished and was replaced with a smile. "Wow. Chivalry really isn't dead. Thank-you." She strode from the cell and offered her hand. "What's your name? I'm Elana."

I shook her hand, which showed surprising strength despite her petite figure. "Kodlak," I replied. "Kodlak Whitemane, Harbinger of the Companions."

"Heard of them," she remarked. "Good order. Fights well. Not very good at sneaking though."

I wasn't an idiot. I could tell that was a blow to me. "I enjoy surprising my enemies and being able to get away with it," I admitted. "Thank-you, by the way."

"Not a problem. So what's a Companion doing all the way out here?"

"I was searching for the Silver Hand—."

"You deliberately went after these idiots?"

"Yes, but I'm not the idiot who got captured by them."

Elana smirked. "I have the _worst_ sense of direction. Touche, Koddy."

"Kodlak."

"Oh, I know. I'd just prefer to call you Koddy."

"I'd prefer it if you called me by my name. How would you feel if I just called you... What would your nickname be?"

"Don't have one. That's why I give people one." Elana grimaced suddenly. I realized that she hadn't been putting much weight onto her right leg until she got comfortable speaking with me. "Oh, Mara's knickers! I guess I hurt it a bit more than I thought..."

"Where are you headed?" I asked.

She smiled. "Whiterun. Not far from here, which is good. How many of the Silver Hand are dead?"

I looked at my most recent kill. "All."

"Great. Then I can rest here for a day before I head out—."

"The Silver Hand doesn't like leaving their fortresses without anyone," I interjected. "They could come back within the hour, for all we know."

Elana smiled at me. "Then what are you suggesting, Koddy?"

"If you lose the nickname, I can carry you to Whiterun."

She pretended to think about it. "All right. I promise."

I had carried her back to the Jorrvaskr, where Tilma (who was _still_ old) took care of her sprained ankle. Even though she advised that Elana didn't walk on it for a few days, the stubborn Imperial was up and about, attempting to continue a training routine she did every morning.

I watched her struggle for a few minutes before I chuckled. "Shouldn't you be in bed?"

"Bed is for people who can't move at all." She stood up carefully. "I can move!"

"You're going to fall."

"No I'm not!"

"Yes you will."

"Kodlak!" Skjor slammed the door open and marched out into the courtyard. Only the Companions were allowed in such a place. Even the guards left us alone there. "Your damned warhammer is taking up too much space! Move it!"

"Why don't you move it, if it's such a concern?" I asked, smirking.

"Damn you to Oblivion! That thing is _insane_!" Skjor glanced at Elana and pointed at her. "This is the one you carried here?"

"Elana, this is Skjor," I introduced. "My fellow Companion."

She waved at him, and then began to fall over. I'd told her she would, and so I was prepared to catch her. When I did, her face was red like a tomato.

"Chivalry really isn't dead, it seems..." she grumbled.

All I could do was smile.

A few days later, Elana finished her mission in Whiterun and returned to Cyrodiil, but I suppose she kept finding reasons to come back. "Only I can carry these messages." "I'm the only one with enough experience." Every excuse was, quite literally, a bad one, but I didn't mind.

It wasn't long after, about three months after our first meeting, that Elana figured out what I was. You see, she was a spy for the Empire, and very good at her job. Her deductive skills were excellent, and it shamed me. As a Companion, my secret had been discovered. As a Werewolf, I wanted nothing but to get rid of the loose end. That terrified me the most.

But when she found out, and I admitted it, she just smiled and said, "Good. I've never been much of a cat person."

On the spot, I asked if I could court her. I'd never seen her wearing an amulet of Mara, but I decided to take that chance. Well, she said it was okay. Probably one of the best moments of my life.

Though she still worked for the Empire, Elana moved to Skyrim with me. We spent eight months together before I finally worked up the courage to ask her to marry me. Like all who live in Skyrim, we were wed at the Temple of Mara in Riften. Another great moment in my life.

But none of those compared to the moment I experienced four months afterward. Elana, as usual, came to the Jorrvaskr where we lived and kissed me. She had just returned from Cyrodiil, but her trip had taken a day longer than usual.

"What was the hold-up?" I asked her.

Elana smiled mischievously. "I wasn't feeling well, so I went to see a physician. And he sent me to a healer."

"You're not feeling well?" I practically jumped out of my seat, scattering the notes I'd been working on; reports of members of the Silver Hand who'd been spotted near Whiterun. "Maybe you should lie down! I can get the bed made up—!"

"Koddy!" Elana stopped me by grasping my arm. Her eyes were smiling at me. "I already know what's wrong with me. Or what's right, I suppose." I didn't get it. She smiled at my cluelessness and got me to sit down at my desk again. "I'm pregnant, Kodlak. We're going to have a baby."

She was right to sit me down. My knees would have buckled, otherwise. "A... baby...?"

She nodded. "Isn't it great? We'll have to find a place it can be. I suppose I might actuall have to invest in a house now, since I don't want the Companions to wake up if the baby can't sleep. Mara help us if Skjor gets angry at it for wailing during his beauty sleep!"

Panic flooded through me. I was terrified. "Elana... I'm a Werewolf..."

Elana's eyes were soft as she gently ran a hand down my cheek. "It's all right, Kodlak. Maybe the baby won't get the gene. If it does, we'll deal with it."

"Then we condemn the child!" I stood up and started to pace. "Elana, what will we do if a hereditary Werewolf is running around? What if the baby actually _kills_ someone?!"

"That won't happen and you know it," Elana said firmly. "Maybe it will be like you, and can call it at will!"

I shook my head. "Elana, when one becomes a Werewolf, they give themselves to Hircine. In death, they cannot go to Sovngarde, and instead are dragged to the Daedric Prince's hunting grounds by their Wolf Spirit for all eternity! Can we really do such a thing to our child?!"

"Kodlak!" Elana frowned at me. I regarded her finally, snapping out of my train of thought. "It. Will. Be. Fine. We're going to have a baby, for Talos' sake! A _baby_!"

I hung my head. "Yes, of course. You're right." I took her hands and leaned my forehead against hers. "But would you allow me to try and find a cure? Just-in-case?"

She sighed and then met my lips with hers. "Very well. The baby won't come for a few months, at least. I'll need some help then, and I can't work for a while. Call it 'maternity leave'."

"I like the sound of that."

The months passed in a blur. We purchased a house inside of Whiterun, Breezehome, it was called, and began to settle there. We bought the essential things and prepared for the arrival of the baby.

But it seemed that Elana's work within the Empire's spy network hadn't gone unnoticed. The Thalmor were issuing a warrant for her arrest for "disrupting the peace". She stayed indoors a lot to evade the Thalmor, and that took a toll on her.

Unfortunately, pressing matters came to my attention, and I had to leave her for a time. I got one of my trusted confidants, Jorgen, to take care of her while I was away.

The Thalmor, only a few hours after your birth, Taryn, found her. Jorgen protected Elana, helped her to get away, and paid for the action with his life. I returned only a day after your birth, and Tilma told me of what had happened. I gathered the Companions, and we went in search of you. We got all the way to Ivarstead and were told of a woman matching Elana's description with a baby who had began the climb up the Throat of the World. I chased after her, leaving the Companions behind, and made it all the way to High Hrothgar before I realized that you both were gone.

There weren't any bodies. I assumed the frost trolls had taken you.

In my grief, I locked myself away in my study. I was more determined than ever to cure myself of Lycanthropy and meet you both in Sovngarde. The years passed in a blur. The children of my comerades grew up to become my new Companions as their kin died. Hiemdall being one of them, as Jorgen was his father.

And then you came, after twenty years, you came to Skyrim without a clue of who I was. To be fair, I didn't know who you were. You struck me as familiar, but it wasn't until I looked at the dagger your mother once held that I realized who you could be. I asked Hiemdall to take care of you, as I had asked his father for your mother. I knew he would not let me down.

I admit, I had hoped for a better reunion. I wish we could have known each other as a father and daughter should have. I had hoped we could have a family.

How unfair of me to give up on you and then leave you, Taryn. I only wish that you find the happiness that I could not. Just remember that I love you, and that you mean the world to me, despite how short we've known each other.

I hope we can all be together in Sovngarde.


	30. Death in the Family

Chapter Twenty-Nine:

Death in the Family

I barely knew him. I probably knew Kodlak Whitemane all of three hours... less, maybe. It wasn't long enough to cry over him when he passed, but I had enough respect for Hiemdall's Harbinger to leave his bedside when his breathing stopped and let the Companions know that their mentor, their father-figure, their Harbiner... that he was dead.

Kodlak's remains were brought to the Skyforge two days later, where Eorlund Grey-Mane worked his craft. We spent all of an hour gathering firewood, stacked it up in the massive forge, and placed his body on the top. By then, night had fallen. A few guards and citizens of Whiterun were watching from the Cloud District, but didn't dare come closer. Kodlak belonged to the Companions, and them alone. Even my own travelling companions allowed me and Hiemdall space for the funeral, and were waiting at the Bannered Mare.

Candles were set around the forge, and a banner from inside of the Jorrvaskr was placed on the woodpile, draped over Kodlak's body, but not totally covering it. His pyre was decorated with plants, though I was sure no one really cared about them.

"Who will start?" Eorlund asked quietly.

Aela stepped forward. Her eyes flickered from the flames to Kodlak's body. "I'll do it." She took a breath and closed her eyes. "Before the ancient flame... We grieve."

"We grieve," the Companions said in unison.

"At this loss... We weep," Eorlund continued.

"We weep," the Companions repeated.

Vilkas cleared his throat, albiet quietly. "For the fallen... We shout."

The Companions were silent for a moment before they agreed, "We shout."

"And for ourselves..." Farkas murmured. "We take our leave."

"We take our leave," the Companions said.

We held a moment of silence for Kodlak before Aela lit a torch and approached his pyre. It looked like every step she took was an effort, but she managed to keep her composure. If I were in her shoes, I'd be a wreck.

She lit the pyre and then faced us, the flames catching quickly and erupting behind her. "His spirit is departed," she said simply. "Members of the Circle, let us withdraw to the Underforge, to grieve our last together."

I stood there and watched the flames as the Companions left the Skyforge, leaving only Eorlund, Hiemdall and I. Eorlund had a quick and quiet word with Hiemdall, who was nodding his head slowly. It was then that Eorlund took his leave.

I didn't even realize that Hiemdall had come up to me, I'd been so transfixed with the flames. He sighed and then slipped his hand in mine, whether to comfort me or himself, I wasn't sure.

"I'm sorry," I muttered.

Hiemdall silently looked on, his brow furrowing in thought. "Don't be," he replied. "A Companion knows the risks when they join. A Harbinger knows them better than most. Kodlak died so we could live on."

I hung my head. My eyes wandered to the ebony dagger strapped to my boot. "I just wish there was something I could do..."

"There is." I looked at Hiemdall, almost in disbelief. "I've been gone for the past two days, remember? That's why they had to postpone his funeral. The Silver Hand stole the Fragments of Wuuthrad, Ysgramor's weapon. I went to get it back, and then after I read Kodlak's research, I went and did as his notes had said he would do. I beheaded a Glenmoril Witch, and managed to get back here just in time. You can help us help Kodlak."

"How?"

Hiemdall's grip on my hand tightened. "Follow me," he said.

He led me down the steps of the Skyforge. He pressed his hand against a stone at its base, and a rock slid inwards and then down, revealing a tunnel. Hiemdall tried to take me down there, but I stood firm.

"The Underforge?" I was sure that it was, and Hiemdall's eyes seemed to confirm it. "I'm not allowed in there. Circle members only, unless something changed."

Hiemdall sighed. "Aela won't let us share plans outside of it, so if you want in, this is your best chance." I still hesitated. "You'll need to choose soon," Hiemdall pressed. "We have another day, at best, before the full moon."

"Don't remind me..." I grumbled. "Okay, let's do this!"

Hiemdall led me into the dark Underforge. Aela, Farkas and Vilkas were the only ones inside it, and they were deep in conversation. It didn't seem like an argument, but it could probably be mistaken as one.

"The old man had one wish before he died," Vilkas said. "And he didn't get it. It's as simple as that."

Aela crossed her arms. "Being moon-born is not so much of a curse as you might think, Vilkas."

"That's fine for you. But he wanted to be clean." Vilkas' brow furrowed. "He wanted to meet Ysgramor and know the glories of Sovngarde. But all that was taken from him."

"And you and Hiemdall avenged him," Aela pointed-out.

_So that's why Hiemdall was gone... But Vilkas was too?_

"Kodlak did not care for vengeance," Farkas said. I realized that I'd heard him speak for the first time since I'd met him.

"No, Farkas, he didn't," Vilkas agreed. "And that's not what this is about. We should be honouring Kodlak, no matter our own thoughts on the blood."

Aela uncrossed her arms. She was silent for a moment and looked at a pedestal that had a strange item on it. "You're right. It's what he wanted, and he deserved to have it." Aela's eyes then flickered over to me and Hiemdall. She didn't hide the surpirse. "Hiemdall, why is she here?"

"She has a right to want to help Kodlak," Hiemdall said. "I thought it best to let her in on our plans, especially since she supplied the journal that'll help Kodlak."

"It was Kodlak's journal in the first place..." I mumbled.

"I agree." Farkas surprised us again. "Kodlak was like a father to each of us. It's only natural that his blood would want in. When Jergen saved us from those necromancers, he brought us to Kodlak. When Jorgen died, Hiemdall was treated like his own son." Farkas looked at me. "I understand your want to aid the Circle."

Aela rested her hands on the edge of the basin in the centre of the Underforge. "... If you want to, Taryn, I won't stop you. How much time should you have left?"

"Hiemdall said a day, maybe less," I replied. "What're we going to do?"

"You know the legends of the Tomb of Ysgramor?" Vilkas asked.

When I shook my head, Aela explained, "There the souls of Harbingers will heed the call of northern steel. We can't even enter the tomb without Wuuthrad, and it's in pieces, like it has been for a thousand years."

"And the Dragons were just stories," Eorlund declared as he strode into the Underforge. "And the elves once ruled Skyrim. Just because something is, doesn't mean it must be. The blade is a weapon. A tool. Tools are meant to be broken. And repaired."

Vilkas squinted. "Is that...? Did you repair the blade?"

"This is the first time I've had all the pieces, thanks to our shield-brother here. 'The flames of a hero can reforge the shattered'." Eorlund hefted the huge battleaxe from his back and held it out. "The flames of Kodlak shall refuel Wuuthrad. And now it will take you to meet him once more." He looked at Hiemdall. "As the one who bore the fragments, I think you should be the one to carry Wuuthrad into battle. The rest of you, prepare to journey to the Tomb of Ysgramor. For Kodlak."

The Companions nodded and left the Underforge as Eorlund handed Wuuthrad over to Hiemdall. Hiemdall tested its weight before fastening the ancient battleaxe to his back. Afterwards, I followed Hiemdall from the Underforge. He stopped at the edge of the stairs, in front of the Jorrvaskr.

"What if we don't make it in time?" Hiemdall asked me. "What if the moon really does trigger you?"

I debated for a while. Couldn't I just wait a day, see what was going to happen? No. At the moment, Kodlak was more important. If what he said was true, his Wolf Spirit would try to drag him to Hircine's hunting grounds. And if that happened, regardless if I was his child or not (because, frankly, I was still having doubts), he'd never see Elana Victus again. I was sure that she was waiting for him in Sovngarde.

"We can make it," I said confidently. "If nothing happens, then we'd have wasted a good day. We have to help Kodlak _now_!"

"Then we'll ask the others to meet us somewhere," Hiemdall rationalized. "A safehouse. I'm sure there'll be one in Winterhold. The actual Hold, I mean. Not the city. At least, I hope not."

"Javin said he probably had something." I started to lead the way to the Bannered Mare. "I'm sure they'll meet us somewhere. They've been really patient with what's been going on." I sighed. "Regardless of how this goes, and how everything turns out, I want you to know that I'm grateful to everyone. I definitely couldn't have done this without you guys."

"Just remember when everything's done, you're buying the drinks," Hiemdall quipped. "And by the way, I guess you outgrew that metallic singing voice that Milos kept saying you had."

I shrugged. "I got bored and practiced. I didn't have anyone around to criticize. And that stupid Argonian can kiss my ass if he thinks he knows anything about music. Unless he runs the Bard's College, I'm not taking any of his crap!"

"Been doing your research on Skyrim, eh?"

"Told you I would. Now I know about as much as the average Nord."

"Well, you're half Nord."

"Technically, but I look Imperial. Not that it really matters how I look. All anyone's going to see after another few weeks is that I've got the blood and soul of a damned Dragon..."

"And Werewolf."

"I'd rather stick with the Dragon."

Hiemdall grasped my shoulder as we reached the Bannered Mare. "For what it's worth, you've been a hell of a leader for us. We're practically flocking around you. You've got the same aura that Kodlak had; one that makes us want to follow."

I smiled at him. "I appreciate it, but that sort of thing's done me more harm than good."

"Don't worry; you'll get that Arnand guy. He'll be soiling his pants when he finds out you're the Dragonborn!"

I liked the way Hiemdall thought.


	31. Saving Kodlak

Chapter Thirty:

Saving Kodlak

While the rest of our companions agreed to meet us in Winterhold, Hiemdall and I began the journey just north of that city. We all packed into a wagon and paid the driver a little extra so he'd be quick about his driving. His horse disagreed a few times, but it listened in the end.

We left the carriage once we got to the small village that was once a beautiful city (wasn't now, since the Great Collapse. Javin didn't even want to explain to me, "such rubbish") called Winterhold. Javin gave Hiemdall some directions, where to meet him when we got back from Ysgramor's Tomb, and then Hiemdall and I said our farewells to our companions.

Hiemdall would test the ice chunks we were leaping on before he would even let me get within three metres of them. It was annoying and it lost us time, but at least we knew that we weren't going to drown in freezing cold water. What can I say? I try to look at the bright side.

Ysgramor's Tomb was around a rockface that wasn't particularily pleasant, but once we got there, we breathed a sigh of relief that we didn't fall in the icy water of the Sea of Ghosts. We entered the tomb, which was surprisingly warm, and met Hiemdall's Companions. There wasn't an exchange of words as Hiemdall placed Wuuthrad in Ysgramor's hands (no, he wasn't real; it was just a giant statue of him). Behind the statue, a large rock slid backwards and then was sucked into the earth, revealing the tomb. I was so used to having my own companions around me that I drew my sword and started issuing commands. When I realized what I was doing, I stopped, but only met the smirks of the silver-eyed Companions.

"Hey, you had blue eyes before!" I snapped at Hiemdall.

He looked at me sheepishly. "I've been hiding it with magicka for a while."

"You can use magicka?!"

"I don't use it much," he said, shrugging.

I shook my head, and ended up leading the way into the tomb. It wasn't long before we were met with ghosts of previous Companions. While we fought the ghosts off, as they proved to be hostile, Hiemdall yelled to me that they were only testing us. They wouldn't let us anywhere near Kodlak unless we proved ourselves. That pissed me off a bit, but hey, I guess you can't just lay down your weapons and explain to the deceased why you're invading their resting place.

We entered another chamber, fought more ghosts, and then Farkas left us. I wasn't sure why (he was speaking to Aela), but we let him return to the statue of Ysgramor. It wasn't until the next chamber frought with Companion spirits that Vilkas decided to follow his twin.

Which left only me, Aela, and Hiemdall.

Oh, goody.

The final chamber we emerged in was larger than the rest, with coffins like the ones we'd encountered before lined along the walls, and one important-looking coffin at the back of the room, protected by bars. A large chandelier hung far above a blue flame in the centre, which was mesmerizing in itself.

But there was a figure standing beside the fire, warming ghostly hands. Kodlak looked up, almost surprised to see us, but then his spectral eyes softened.

"Kodlak, Is that you?" Hiemdall asked.

"Of course," Kodlak replied, as if it were obvious. "My fellow Harbingers and I have been warming ourselves here." He gave a smile. "Trying to evade Hircine."

"But there's nobody else here..." I muttered.

Kodlak sighed. "You see only me because your heart knows only me as the Companions leader. I'd wager old Vignar could see half a dozen of my predecessors. And I see them all. The ones in Sovngarde. The ones trapped with me in Hircine's realm." The old Harbinger looked downcast. "And they all see you. You've brought honor to the name of the Companions. We won't soon forget it."

"You can still be cured!" Hiemdall exclaimed suddenly. "Vilkas said so!"

"Did he now? I can only hope. You still have the withces' heads?"

Hiemdall reached into his pack and pulled out the head of a hagraven. I gagged at the sight of it, since the stump of its neck was still bloodied and some flies had taken a liking to it.

"You had that in your pack this entire time?!" I gasped.

Hiemdall nodded. "Magicka doesn't only mask eyes, you know."

"I _really_ don't want to know what else you have in there..."

Kodlak smiled at the head. "Excellent," he said, chuckling at my outburst. "Throw it into the fire. It will release their magicka, for me at least." Kodlak looked at me as Hiemdall approached the flame. "Or you, Taryn."

"Huh?"

Kodlak folded his arms across his chest. "I don't want to leave you as you are now. Say the word, and the head is yours, but I'm uncertain if it will work for you."

I shut my eyes. "No, Kodlak. There's no doubt that this will work for you, but if you're not sure it'll work for me, then I won't take that risk."

"But—!"

"When you go to Sovngarde," I said, interrupting him, "say 'Hi' to Elana Victus for me, will you? Tell her that I'll keep her dagger safe, and that I'll return it to her, one day."

Hiemdall tossed the head into the fire before Kodlak could argue. The flames ate the head faster than it would parchment, until it was no more. Kodlak clutched his abdomen and gasped. He fell on his knees, and then a gigantic wolf, easily three or four times larger than a normal one you'd see around Skyrim, erupted from him. It was a more menacing ghost, with a red aura rather than the traditional blue you'd see around ghosts. It snarled and wasted no time in leaping for Hiemdall's throat.

I had my ebony blade out by then and slammed it onto the ghost wolf's body, stopping its attack against Hiemdall. Aela shot three arrows at it at once, stunning it, before Hiemdall plunged his greatsword into the beast's head, destroying it.

Kodlak got back onto his feet and smiled. I didn't think he could help it; smiling was what anyone would do.

"I thank you for this gift," Kodlak said quietly. "The other Harbingers remain trapped by Hircine, though. Perhaps from Sovngarde, the heroes of old can join me in their rescue. The Harrowing of the Hunting Grounds. It would be a battle of such triumph. And perhaps, some day, you'll join us in that battle. But for today, return to Jorrvaskr. Trumph in your victory." Kodlak put a hand on Hiemdall's shoulder. "And lead the Companions to further glory."

Kodlak slowly disappeared, but not before he clapped a hand on my shoulder as well. Needless to say, the man made me feel incredibly small in his presence. When he was gone, we returned our respective weapons to their sheathes.

"Did I hear right?" Aela asked suddenly. "Did he say _you_ were to lead the Companions?"

Hiemdall smiled, as if Kodlak had been joking with him just a moment before. "He did indeed."

"You've earned the right," Aela agreed. "Your strength and honor are apparent to all. And it's my honor to be first to address you as Harbinger. Let's go tell the others—."

"Aela, would you tell them?" Hiemdall asked. "There's still the matter of Taryn that needs to be taken care of."

Aela glanced at me and pursed her lips. "As you wish," she said. "Just remember that you have other duties now."

"I'll remember." Hiemdall put a ahdn on my head. "Oh, and Taryn (and with Aela as my witness), as Harbinger, I pledge the Companions and its resources to the Dragonborn's cause. Use us as you wish."

I blinked. "T-Thanks, but..."

"But what?"

I smirked. "That means I've got all the factions dedicated to me now, you know?"

He tilted his head thoughtfully. "Hm. I suppose. Geez, aren't you popular?"

It was a few minutes later that we left the chamber and emerged into the room with Ysgramor's statue in it. We barely glanced at Farkas and Vilkas as we went outside. It was already sundown, and we'd have to hurry to get to wherever Javin was. I had asked if Hiemdall wanted to take Wuuthrad with him, but he had said it was better-off in Ysgramor's hands.

Personally, I think he liked blades better than axes.

We followed the path we'd taken before, since we knew it was safe and so Hiemdall wouldn't slow us down for safety again.

"We're headed to Yngol Barrow," Hiemdall said as we passed through Winterhold. "It's close to the border of Eastmarch, but it was the best place Javin could find on short notice."

I frowned at him. "Why're you smiling?"

He just realized that the smile was on his face, but he didn't hide it. "I was just thinking of the irony. We've just left Ysgramor's Tomb, and now we head for the resting place of his eldest son, Yngol."

I rolled my eyes. I still needed to brush up on the history of Skyrim. All I knew about Ysgramor was that he was the leader of the original Companions, Atmoran, and had two sons. That was about it.

"We're almost there," Hiemdall said. "And it looks like we've got some time to spare."

I sighed. "I hate this, you know?"

"I know. But we'll find a way around it."

I snorted, somehow unable to fathom how such a thing could be remotely possible. My faith in Humanity wasn't very high at the moment.

"Now imagine if the Madame from my old orphanage could see me now..." I grinned. "She would throw her hands up in the air when I was a kid and yell, 'You're a beast!' because I would do something she didn't like. I can almost see the look on her face, actually..."

"Was she very cruel? You talk about her a lot, actually."

"She's the reason I've had no faith in adults since I was a kid. I always dreaded getting older, because I didn't want to be like them. The adults in Anvil that I would see—the guards, the nobles, the workers—were all submissive. They seemed to have no fight left in them. I couldn't imagine that the Thalmor could defeat an empire so fully. But the Madame, who was so lively, despite her cruelty, thought the Thalmor were in the right." I shook my head. "Back when the Hero of Kvatch was around, the Empire was strong and full of life. Where'd that Empire go? If another Hero of Kvatch appeared, would they help the Empire?"

Hiemdall looked thoughtful. "So what're your thoughts on the Civil War then?"

"I think it's stupid," I replied bluntly. "The Stormcloaks can appeal for independance when the Thalmor are back on their stupid island. This is just tearing the Empire apart, and Ulfric's ambitions are getting in the way. But I'm not choosing a side; there's no way in Oblivion that I'm going to fight for a Thalmor-controlled Empire, or a crazy bastard who'll do anything for a throne." I smiled. "You're easy to talk to, actually."

"I am?" Hiemdall smirked. "I guess you never reallygot to find out. You were always at the front of the line with Milos."

"Yeah..."

He wrapped an arm around my shoulder and shook me gently in a friendly manner. "Don't worry; that overgrown lizard will come to his senses."

I doubted it. "How? He really, really, really dislikes were-creatures because of what they did to his parents."

"Werewolves are supposed to hate Vampires," Hiemdall pointed-out, "and here we have a Vampire and two Werewolves in one group, and the biggest conflict we've ever had was an issue over smell."

"I suppose..."

"Stop doubting everything. You're a leader, and a damn good one. Hold your head high and be confident in what you believe is right, and more will follow your example."

"Aren't you the leader of the Companions now? Why're you following me?"

He smiled. "I've been with you for a while now. I'm not about to abandon you. I need to see this through just as much as you do."

I sighed. "Because Kodlak asked you to watch over me, huh?"

Hiemdall shook his head. "At first, but now... I've grown attatched to you, I suppose."

Gulping, I looked up at him. "You know, it's partially my fault that your father died."

"Hm?"

I hadn't quite told Hiemdall what Kodlak had told me. "You see, Kodlak asked your dad to watch over Elana Victus—I guess she's my mom—while he was away. When I was born, your father died."

"Then he died serving the Companions and protecting what he thought was right." Hiemdall shrugged, but I knew it wasn't an, "I don't really care" shrug. "I wasn't old enough to know him well enough, but... After my father died, Kodlak, Skjor, and Tilma watched over me. My mother was killed by the Thalmor for the illegal worship of Talos before my father died, so I didn't know her very well either. I guess I took away the father your were supposed to know."

"And I yours," I said quietly.

"Then that makes us even." Hiemdall glanced at the sky. "Stars are beginning to appear, and we're almost there. I bought some larger clothes for you to change into, since I know you don't like to be indecent, but I'd also like to give you some room just-in-case this thing really does happen. From what I saw last time, you're not really in control of yourself, so you won't like the clothes if you do transform."

"Thanks, Hiemdall."

"Anytime, Taryn."

Hiemdall led me into the barrow, which seemed almost like a cave at first glance. We emerged into the main entryway and met the others, and a few corpses. One bandit, however, was bound and gagged.

"Since when do we take bandit prisoners?" I asked.

Aldren smirked. "Ever since that was the best way to keep a Werewolf sated."

When I frowned, Javin held his hands up. "Don't worry; we've taken some precautions. I've been preparing spells for a few hours now. If you do turn, then there will be nowhere out for you, and you won't be able to harm us. The bandit is just a bonus."

Hiemdall facepalmed. "You realize that I'm a Werewolf too, right? I _can_ help her."

"Bloody good job you did before," Javin grumbled, out of Hiemdall's earshot.

I rolled my eyes. "How much time left?"

"About ten minutes, if I've read my star-charts right." Javin looked at Cha'qim. "Did I?"

"Cha'qim believes we may even have fifteen minutes," the Khajiit said. "She studied star-charts before she became a thief. Cha'qim enjoys such things."

Hiemdall placed his pack on the ground and rummaged through it until he brought out some larger village clothes. He handed them to me and then pointed me to the other side of the room, where he led me by the elbow.

"Hiemdall, do you want to come back before I cast the spell?" Javin asked.

He shook his head. "I'll stay here with her. I think she'll need a bit of support."

"We are all supporting," Cha'qim said.

"I mean a bit closer. I'm in no danger." Hiemdall met my gaze. "What?"

"Can you all turn around? I'm going to change into these," I said.

Respectfully, they all turned, so I changed out of my leather armour as quickly as I could and into the clothes I'd been provided. They were really, really large, and definitely not something I'd wear outside of the barrow.

"I'm done," I announced.

The next few minutes were tense. I slid down the wall until I was sitting on the ground and brought my knees up to my chest. Waiting was probably going to be one of the hardest parts. Javin casted his spell behind Hiemdall and I first, and then in front of us. He gave us enough room so we could walk around though. Cha'qim, Aldren and Javin waited near the entrance, sitting on some stones they'd brought inside.

A tiny ball of anxiety and fear tightened with each passing minute. I didn't bother to keep count. It would only be more depressing.

"Three minutes," Aldren announced.

I glared at him. "Thanks. Thanks a lot."

I wrung my hands together and fidgeted like no tomorrow. Eventually, Hiemdall sighed and stopped me by grasping my hands in his.

"Don't worry," he said.

"Hard not to."

He nodded. "You know, when I first drank Aela's blood and became a Werewolf, I went on a killing-spree."

My eyes widened. "Seriously?"

"Mhm. I killed seventeen guards before the Companions caught me and dragged me out of the city. All of the Companions go through it. It's a transitioning period. Regardless, I set a new record."

I shook my head. "_Seventeen_..." I repeated.

"After that, I only killed Silver Hand members... until I started killing monsters and bandits with you."

"Ah, the memories..."

Hiemdall backed away and sat across from me. "Just don't worry."

I sighed, completely resigned. "I kind of just want to go to sleep. This entire _week_ has been—."

And then I got my answer.

It sure as hell _felt_ like the Werewolf side of me was affected by the moon.


	32. A Memorable Experience

Chapter Thirty-One:

A Memorable Experience

Bones broke, muscles were contracting, and it felt like I'd been set on fire and doused in poison. My screams were resonating throughout the entire barrow. I was holding myself, fighting an invisible, internal enemy, but I wasn't likely to win. I could feel my teeth changing, and that wasn't exactly my favourite part.

Air was hard to breathe, and even closing my eyes required effort. To be honest, it felt like my entire body had weakened, betraying me in my fight, similar to when I'd been retching up blood.

Hiemdall was crouched beside me in a heartbeat and vigorously rubbing my back. He was saying something, but either I didn't understand it or his words were drowned by my screams. I wished that I had killed myself back when that Werewolf Vargr, Stom, had come.

I don't know how much time passed. A minute? An hour? Probably around then. I had fought it for a long time, but I wasn't feeling full of pride for such a feat. Closing my eyes before had screwed me over, but my eyes were shut tight now, as if trying to keep the pain away, albiet unsuccessfully. More than once I'd felt myself slipping away, only to frantically grab at that small essence that was "me", but I began to have trouble differentiating myself.

My throat was raw from screaming. It became a tedious task to do so. Hiemdall, more than once, had to hold me down to stop me from running. I caught myself, a few times, with my "wants" changed. From hoping that I hadn't injured Hiemdall, to wanting to sink my teeth around his neck for daring to hold me back. If I could, honestly, I probably would've laughed at how bipolar I was being.

"Taryn, can you still hear me?" Hiemdall asked.

I nodded slowly, using a lot of effort.

"Good job. You're doing great." I heard Hiemdall shift his position. "It's been five hours. I'm really impressed, actually."

"She's still got her mind yet?" Aldren inquired.

"Yeah... for now, I suppose."

"As long as she's done screaming. I think I'll need to find some replacement eardrums."

"Cha'qim thinks that such screams were probably inherited by banshees..." I flipped Cha'qim the bird, but she laughed at me. "Good to see the mind is still intact, yes?"

I groaned in pain as another rib cracked. I was pretty sure no other sound could come out of my throat.

"H-How bad...?" I asked, cancelling and erasing, and burying my last thought.

"Um... Not bad," he replied with uncertainty.

"Liar," Cha'qim chipped-in. "Cha'qim thought her brother M'aiq was to be the liar, not Hiemdall."

"Can it, Cha'qim!"

"How much... l-longer...?"

I heard Hiemdall sigh. "A few more hours, yet."

"I can't—!" I gasped, another stab of pain speeding through my body.

Hiemdall rested his hand on my back. "This is just my opinion, but perhaps giving in wouldn't be too bad...?" I glared at him. "At least the pain'll stop, right?"

"Don't... wanna...!"

"Then answer me this: what happens if you beat it back, the sun comes up, and it doesn't stop? What happens then?"

_Gods, I give up._

"Taryn, I know you hate this, but I'm right here with you. I swear by the Eight—Nine!" he corrected hastily. "Trust me, okay?"

I gave him a once-over increduously. That aching question of "What if?" kept bubbling to the surface of my mind. I groaned, agony coarsing through me, and then locked my eyes with Hiemdall's.

"You... swear...?"

He grinned and nodded. "I'll strip down right now if it helps."

Meh, he'd do it later, anyways. I squeezed my eyes tight and took a few deep breaths to calm myself. I felt reluctant to trust Hiemdall, but he was the only one who knew what I was going through, or had any inkling of it. Not that I didn't trust him already! It was just...

"I want you to listen to me for a second while you still have your wits about you," Hiemdall said. "You won't be able to hurt any of us. I can hold my own in here anyway. The bandit over there is just an incentive. Nod if you understand."

I slowly moved my head up and down, feeling my cheek brush against the cold floor of the tomb. I would occasionally get a feeling of intense heat and, frankly, agony, but I didn't fight against it. At least it wasn't as bad as before.

Until I felt absolutely nothing.

And from that was pure bliss, because I didn't have a damn clue what was going on, and I didn't really care.

But then I was being shaken awake, and the bliss and the nothingness ended.

I had to peel my eyes open, even though I wanted them to stay shut. Someone barked into my ear and nudged me, encouraging me to shake the grogginess from my head. How much time had passed? It seemed like only seconds.

"... What...?" I mumbled incoherently.

"You'd better get on your feet quickly, girl!" Javin said. "We have company outside!"

"Outside...?"

"It has been two hours since Hiemdall convinced you to let yourself change," Cha'qim explained. "Sun has almost come up. Vargrs are at the door of the tomb. Cha'qim doesn't like the odds."

My vision was blurry and my head was spinning, but a few deep breaths and I felt better. I used the wall to get to my feet, and felt huge hands on me to help out. It took me a second to realize it was Hiemdall, and he was in his Beast Form.

"Vargrs?" I repeated.

"Like that Werewolf Stom a few days ago, only they're in a pack now," Aldren said. "Hurry up, Javin! You need to get the barrier down!"

"It took several hours to make this! It's going to take a while, unless you want something to go wrong and kill those two!" Javin snapped.

"We'll _all_ be dead if you don't hurry!"

Hiemdall got in front of me and made me wrap my arms around him, and then made some quick gestures with his huge, furry hands to Javin. Honestly, I felt like I was hungover...

"You sure you could make it out?" Javin asked.

Hiemdall's head bobbed up and down.

"All right. Cha'qim, Aldren, they're after Taryn. Hiemdall's going to run outside as soon as I get this barrier down, but you both need to be ready in case it doesn't work, so prepare your weapons, and the door!"

_How'd Javin get _thatmuch_ out of Hiemdall's gestures...?_

Hiemdall dropped on all fours and tensed his muscles, ready to run. Even when he was crouched, my feet weren't touching the floor. Aldren and Cha'qim were on either side of the door, about as tensed as Hiemdall. It seemed like I wasn't there, and that the scene was just playing in front of me.

"The barrier's down!" Javin exclaimed, leaping to the side. "Go!"

Cha'qim and Aldren flung the doors open. A mass of angry Werewolf heads and bodies tried to get through at once. Hiemdall barrelled into them all and broke out through the centre of the group, speeding up as he got to more open space. Werewolf Vargrs pursued us relentlessly, faster than Hiemdall since he had me on his back. One of them tried to clamp its teeth on my leg, but it missed. Barely.

Several more Vargrs appeared in front of us. Hiemdall slid in the snow to a stop and readied himself to run again, this time in a different direction, but the rest of the Vargrs caught up and circled us. There must have been at least fifteen...

The fur around Hiemdall's neck rose and he growled dangerously. My arms felt like they wieghed about as much as a mammoth, so I was relieved when Hiemdall made me release the death-grip I had on him and laid me down into the snow, even though it was freezing. And then I realized that the reason Hiemdall had let me go was to fight the Vargrs. I couldn't summon my magicka, I was weaponless, and could barely move. It wasn't looking good. To make matters worse, it was likely that we were already miles from Yngol's tomb.

Hiemdall roared at the Vargrs and stood his ground. I guessed that the Harbinger of the Companions couldn't exactly command respect from rogue Werewolves.

A Vargr kept testing Hiemdall by stepping closer, only to have Hiemdall snap at him savagely, but then a Vargr from behind him would start coming close. I was getting ready to Shout at the Vargrs when they all stopped suddenly, and then ran off. Just like that. We didn't interest them any longer, and they were searching for something else.

We heard running not long after. It wasn't a Vargr. They were wearing heavy armour and had a weapon slapping against their back as they ran. Hiemdall growled as they got closer.

I didn't even put in the effort to seeing who it was—I just laid in the snow and tried to trick myself into thinking I was warm.

"It's about time I found you guys."

The snow wasn't what made me freeze. It was the voice.

"M-Milos...?"

"Sorry I'm late." He came over to Hiemdall and I. "I killed a bear a little further back to draw those things away, but it won't distract them for long." Hiemdall let Milos scoop me up. "That, and I needed to find you guys again."

I felt like such a child there, with Milos holding me. Like glass, just waiting to be broken.

"On the bright side, you've got clothes again," Milos remarked. "Looks like you didn't break outta those. Does that stupid orb in the sky affect you even a little bit?"

I nodded slowly, exhaustion still gripping me.

"Hiemdall, I've got some clothes in my pack." Hiemdall barked something at Milos and pointed him in a direction. "That way? Got it. Just catch up with us, okay?"

I must have passed out. A few minutes later, Milos was jogging with me in his arms. Was it really minutes? I wasn't so sure, but I could hear more voices. Milos stopped for a minute to catch his breath and adjust me. I could already feel the suns rays start to warm me up.

"About time you caught up," Milos grumbled.

"Sorry. The pants threw me off." Hiemdall seemed to have communicated with Milos silently, because I was handed over to him. "The Vargrs turned back, too. They're still hunting us though."

"Why?" Milos asked, a question I would have asked myself sometime.

"Companions don't really interfere with Vargrs so long as they don't attack people," Hiemdall explained. "So, in a mostly male Werewolf society..."

Milos snorted. "Great. I think Taryn's gonna like that news. What about Aela?"

"She can kick their asses to Sovngarde and back, and they know it. Frankly, Taryn's a good target because she's resistant. If they manage to find her while she's turning, then they can immediately catch her."

The two were silent for a time before I could hear Cha'qim in the trees, yelling at us. Thankfully, she wasn't yelling anything that would make us have to run away from Vargrs again.

"Ah! We see Taryn and Hiemdall are all right!" she yelled. "And the Argonian has joined our party again! Cha'qim suddenly favours our odds."

"Let Javin and Aldren know that we've got to get moving to Karthspire," Hiemdall called to her. "The Vargrs are still after us."

"Cha'qim will let the rest know," she agreed. "Hurry!"

Their efforts redoubled as Cha'qim used the trees to manuoevere quickly so she wouldn't have to slog through the snow like us. It was a few minutes later that I finally felt well enough to walk on my own. My breath had returned, at least, and I didn't feel as dizzy as earlier.

"Put me down, Hiemdall," I said softly.

Hiemdall's eyes gave me a once-over. I frowned at him, and he let one of his eyebrows raise in reply, a smirk tugging at his lips. A challenge. This bastard...

"_Hiemdall_," I warned.

His smirk broadened into a smile. "A few more miles, at least. Okay?"

"I'd feel awkward."

Hiemdall mulled it over, his forehead creasing. "I guess..." he muttered. "But if you're not okay, I'm carrying you again."

"I can do it," I assured him.

Shrugging, Hiemdall allowed me to stand. I had to get my balance for a moment, but I was fine. It was strange though, since it felt like I needed to get used to being myself again. Thankfully, I didn't really remember anything about... _that_.

"I can do it," I repeated, this time to reassure myself.

Hiemdall picked up a fistfull of snow and started to rub it into my hands. My feet were already numb from the cold, and I wondered if he intended for me to get sick. But upon further inspection, I noticed that my hands were caked in dried blood. Hiemdall had been trying to get it off before I properly noticed, and hoped the cold would distract me.

"The bandit...?"

Hiemdall didn't say anything, but once my hands were cleaned of the blood, he grabbed them and began to lead me through the snow. I hung my head and sent a message to Akatosh that the bandit be all right, despite the way he'd died.

I took a deep breath. _I_ wasn't the one who killed him. It _wasn't_ my _fault_. And even if it were, he was a _bandit_. He'd killed people and plundered for loot for a living, probably raping women on the way for shits and giggles.

"You'll go insane if you keep thinking about it," Hiemdall murmured. "Better it be him than people you know and care about, right?"

I nodded and licked my dried lips, but tasted blood there too. I spat quickly and then scooped up some snow, shoving it into my mouth to get the taste out. Hiemdall shook his head, picked up more snow and pressed it against my mouth to wipe away the rest of the blood. I was thankful, but he was kind of suffocating me.

I pushed his hand away, spat out the snow, and we continued forward. Milos didn't even look back.


End file.
